


First Comes Marriage

by Larrrsy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Pining, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:26:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 67,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larrrsy/pseuds/Larrrsy
Summary: Backed into a corner Cassandra has to choose the lesser of two evils.  To escape a forced marriage to Nevarran royalty she must enter into a marriage of convenience.  A task made infinitely more unbearable when Varric is the only one able to take up the cause.





	1. Chapter 1

“I am sorry Josephine, I do not believe I heard you correctly.  It sounded like you said that I am being called back to Nevarra to marry the Prince Regent on penalty of death.”   

The sympathetic look on the Ambassador’s face told Cassandra that she had indeed heard correctly.  

“This is preposterous!”  Cassandra slammed her fists against the war table, sending the troop markers skittering across the hard surface.  “They have no right!  They think they can command me and I will acquiesce?  Bow to their demands?  I would sooner die!”  Her lip curled into a snarl.

Josephine’s hand hovered over a toppled figurine in front of her.  “We are doing the best we can to understand the situation Cassandra,” she said.  “But the paperwork that has been sent is extensive.  It will take days possibly weeks to sort through I’m afraid.”

“Well then sort through it!  Surely there is a loophole, a caveat…something to exploit in my favour?”  Cassandra watched Josephine flinch at the sound of her voice.  She was yelling, but she hardly cared, it was the only thing she could think to do at the moment bar smashing something to bits.  This was not the way she had thought her evening would go.  In Cullen’s absence she had been drafted to keep abreast of troop movements which had drawn her from her usual spot in the forge to the resources of the war room.  The large windows that edged the room had afforded her a magnificent view of the setting sun which was coming earlier and earlier each day as they skirted the winter months.  She had barely noticed.  Too engrossed in her work, only Josephine’s knocking on the thick door had brought her back to reality.  If this was in fact reality.  A part of her, the most stern and stubborn part that frequently frightened passersby and small children was clinging to the possibility that this was just some twisted fade dream.

“I’m sure there is, I have people on it as we speak.  However…”  Josephine picked up the nearest toppled figurine and delicately placed it back on the map, pointedly avoiding eye-contact with Cassandra.  “However, there is a complication.”

“What else could there possibly be?”  Cassandra sounded beyond exasperated. 

“There is a deadline,” said the Ambassador.   

Cassandra gave a dejected scoff.  “How long do I have?  Weeks?  Days?”  She somehow managed to sound flippant in all her rage.  That Josephine was handling her with kid gloves should have unnerved her more, but her anger yet blocked her from grasping the severity of the situation. 

“One day I’m afraid.”  Cassandra made to speak, but Josephine continued on over her protest.  “Slightly less in fact, an emissary will be arriving tomorrow morning to finalize the documentation and I presume escort you back to Nevarra.”  

Cassandra punched the war table again, but with far less strength than before.  The newly replaced marker merely wobbled under Josephine’s fingers.  Cassandra leaned heavily against the table with fisted hands, needing the support.  She felt as though the whole world had dropped out from under her, like the earth beneath her feet had opened into a gaping void, bleak and desolate.  Her legs began to shake.

“How can this be?”  The raw edge in her voice had exhausted itself, and left her sounding drained.

“We only received the proclamation this morning.  It would seem that they did not want to give you time to…well, time to rebel.”  Josephine was struggling to keep a consistent tone.  Though she was trying to maintain an authoritarian manner, a soft and soothing tone kept seeping through.  With anyone else she would think they were trying to placate her, but she knew Josephine better than that.

“This cannot be legal surely?”  Cassandra’s voice wavered slightly and she sought Josephine’s eyes searching for some glimmer of hope.

“I am sorry to say that I am not as educated in Nevarran law as I would like to be, but from what I have read, it would seem so.  I am truly sorry Cassandra,” Josephine sighed, as if unable to keep herself above the situation any longer.     

“But why me?  I am the daughter of treasonous rebels, I have shunned Nevarra at every opportunity.  Surely there are far more adequate choices, less extreme choices at the very least?”  In her youth she had been a much sought after companion, both because of and in spite of her heritage.  Her Uncle Vestalus had sent suitor after suitor to her, each one more determined than the next to steer her from her Seeker training.  Those that did not leave at the first sight of her covered in sweat and grime hightailed it back to Nevarra once they realized that she would be no courtly Lady, wooed by their empty declarations.  If she had known then that all it would take for the parade of simpering, sniveling, spurious men to stop was a little physicality she would have  _ accidently _ broken one of their arms much sooner than she had.  Somehow she doubted that that would work this time around.

“Cassandra, you are a Seeker, Right Hand of the Divine and a high ranking leader of the Inquisition you are a formidable prospect politically speaking.”   

“Then you do not believe that this is some mistake?  An error?  A joke?”  Cassandra did not recognize the sound of her own voice as she pleaded.

“Unfortunately no.”  Josephine paused, her face taking on a grave appearance.  “I believe this is very serious.”

Cassandra bowed her head in resignation, unable to support the weight of it any longer.  She trusted Josephine, trusted that she was doing all that she could to put an end to this…this outrageous situation.  If she said this was serious, then what hope did she have?

She had little love for her homeland.  It had taken everything from her, her parents, her childhood, her brother.   _ Anthony.   _ Would that he was here with her now, to guide her and give her strength.  But she was alone, as ever and she would find her strength as always from within.  Cassandra took a deep breath steeling herself, standing straight, arms clenched at her sides.

“Thank you for your help Josephine, but this absurdity will not take place.  I will go.  Leave.  And if they come to take me, well…I would like to see them try.”  Cassandra turned on the spot and briskly headed for the door.  Before she could reach it, it swung open and Leliana stepped quickly in, effectively blocking her exit.  Their eyes met, and Cassandra saw the same sympathy within them that had been plastered all over Josephine’s face.  It did nothing to assuage her fears, instead fueling her despair. 

“My dear friend, I have been informed of the situation, I came immediately.”  Leliana made her way towards Cassandra. 

“Did you know?”  The accusatory words spilled forth charged by her roiling emotions.  Leliana stopped in her tracks.  “Did know that this was going to happen?”  Cassandra regretted her outburst immediately. 

“Do you honestly believe that  _ I _ would keep something like this from you?” Anger flared momentarily upon the Spymaster’s features, before her face regained its normal calm demeanour.  “You are upset, of course, so I will not take your accusations personally.”

Cassandra breathed deeply before speaking.  “I spoke without thinking, I am sorry Leliana.  I did not mean to accuse you as I did.”

“There has been chatter out of Nevarra, King Markus’s illness has worsened, and his brother Ferdinand has refused the crown.  Caspar, Markus’s bastard son and only heir has been elevated to rule in his stead.  It is true that a strong marriage, especially to a true Pentaghast would help solidify his rule from those eager to depose him, but this…this I was not aware of.”  Leliana’s lip quirked minutely as if her ignorance physically pained her in someway. 

Cassandra felt a fresh wave of guilt, how could she have ever thought that Leliana, one who had been her other half for years now would ever betray her in such a way.  “It is inconsequential now.  I will be leaving, they will not have me,” she stated, as if a matter of fact.

“I thought that might be your answer to this, but you must realize there is another way to resolve this,” said Leliana.

“A  _ convenient _ death perhaps?” Cassandra replied.  “Yes, it had occurred to me.”  Josephine gasped behind her.

“No you can’t!  A member of the royal family!  If it were traced back to the Inquisition…the repercussions!”  Leliana laughed quietly, though it held no mirth. 

“And we would never put the Inquisition in that position.  Would we Cassandra?” Leliana raised an eyebrow questioningly at her.  

“Then you must have another plan, or you would not be torturing me so.”  Leliana smirked briefly at Cassandra’s statement, though she did not believe that she took any amusement from her own agony.

“My friend I believe I have a simpler solution to your situation.  Quite plainly that you cannot marry the Prince Regent if you are already married,” said Leliana.  Out of the corner of her eye Cassandra saw Josephine’s face light up.

“Oh of course!  Leliana that is brilliant, why did I not think of that myself?  And it would give us time to find a loophole in the documents!”  Cassandra was taken aback at Josephine’s exuberance. 

“…But I am not married,” she said slowly, deliberately as if the other women had momentarily lost their senses.

“Well no of course not.  Not yet anyway,” Josephine replied with a dismissive hand gesture.  

Cassandra suddenly wished that she had not left the sturdy support of the war table as understanding washed over her and once again she felt her hold on her surroundings slip away from her.  The walls suddenly seemed much closer, the flames of the torches that lined the walls brighter, harsher.

“Are you—are you  proposing that I marry someone in the next day to avoid being shipped off to Nevarra and forced into marrying the Prince Regent tomorrow?”  Her voice was rising again.

“Exactly!  Now who is available?”  Josephine was already scribbling away on a clean piece of paper.

If it were at all possible she expected to begin literally steaming at any moment.  She burned hot a mixture of rage, shame and righteous indignation.  The very thought of it, a marriage of convenience.  It flew against everything she stood for.  True the Chantry understood the necessity of practical marriages, but surely this is not what they had in mind?  Regardless of the Chantry’s position, her biggest obstacle was herself, her own heart.  The prospect of being forced into one loveless marriage to escape another was almost too much to bear.  “This is ludicrous!  I will not be part of this…this sham!  I simply will not.”  Her voice had risen fully and once again she was yelling, but she didn’t care if the entire keep heard her now. 

“Then you will go to Nevarra?” Leliana asked, but it was not a question.   

Leliana and Josephine watched her in silence, waiting for her response.  She had no words, no arguments, what could she say?  After a moment, when it became obvious that no answer was forthcoming Josephine calmly guided her to a chair and she slumped into it, her body limp.  

“We understand that this is not an easy decision.  That this is…less than ideal.”  Leliana softened her voice.  “I know, maybe better than anyone else how difficult this is for you Cassandra.  You are a true romantic.”  Cassandra’s cheeks flushed red with shame, as if this wasn’t humiliating enough.  To have her deepest, personal desires dredged up in this manner was insufferable.  “I would not ask you to do this, to soil your ideals...your wants.  But you cannot run forever, and as such your options are limited and you are running out of time.”  Leliana’s voice may have been soft but she did not sugar-coat her intent.

It was the most logical idea Cassandra had to admit, she was not so obstinate that she could not see that.  But to betray her heart in such a fashion, could she ever forgive herself?

“It would not be forever.  Only until we can find a way to keep you from Nevarra.  And the Chantry supports annulment, it will be as if it never even happened.”  Leliana was trying to ease her into making the decision for herself, though there was apparently only one path for her to take.

“You are sure I cannot resolve this with my sword?”  She had meant for it to be a joke, a last ditch effort at levity before reality came crashing in, but the words sounded sour instead.  Leliana took Cassandra’s hands in hers and gave her a sad smile.

“I am afraid not my friend.”  The silence hung between them as Leliana and Josephine waited for Cassandra’s response.  

Truly what choice did she have?  She would not comply with Nevarra’s demands, and if she ran she would be hunted.  Worse she would be leaving the Inquisition behind, a betrayal to her friends and family here at Skyhold, and to the memory and divine will of the beloved Most Holy.  But to stay and marry?  It would be a betrayal to her heart.  In an instant Cassandra knew what she must do.  Her entire life had been spent serving a higher order, to abandon that now, for what?  Her own pride?

“I will do it.”  Leliana’s hands tightened on her own.

“You are certain?”

Cassandra gave a sharp nod then stood abruptly, pulling her hands from Leliana’s grasp.  “I will leave you to it.”  Cassandra stalked towards door, her long strides carrying her quickly across the room.  If this was to be her fate, then so be it.  It was foolish of her to still believe in the ideals of romance, and passion, and…love.  She was acting the child, at her age.  Her Seeker training had taught her to purge herself of frivolous emotion, and if she had to do it once again, to shield herself from the pain of losing all she had left, then she would. 

“Do you not want to stay and decide on a match?” Josephine called after Cassandra’s retreating form.

“Does it matter?” She barely paused to respond, her voice chillingly neutral.  The door to the war room slammed shut behind her, closing on the two women left to decide her fate and on her own senseless pursuit of passion. 

\---- 

Leliana found her later that evening as she sat in the Chantry alone.  The chapel was rarely used after morning mass, only those who sought singular worship or supplication returned throughout the day.  Even the Sisters were too busy with other duties within Skyhold to devote all of their time to the upkeep of the chapel and the offering of the divine word.  Tonight, that had suited her just fine.  Only a handful of other people had graced the chapel during her time spent in solitary invocation, staying long enough for a simple recitation or to light one of the many candles that lined the far wall.  She paid them no heed, insistent in her own reverence.  There was no way for her to tell just how long she had been at it.  Aside from the creeping ache in her joints from her stiff and unwavering position kneeling against the hard stone, only the presence of a novice Sister, come to extinguish the torches littered throughout, gave her any sense of the hour.  It was very late if she had to guess, close to, if not already the next day.  The candles left lit burned lower and lower around her, she watched with rapt focus as hot wax ran down the sides of thick pillars and thin tapers alike, collecting at their bases and cooling into rippled puddles of wax.  She watched, and she waited.  It was agony, but what was to come after the waiting would be torment still.

Had it not already been night she may have gone to the training grounds instead.  But dummies were no replacement for living flesh and she craved it now, the heady thrum of a fight.  Bruising, crushing, satisfying, the feel of steel in her hands, the power behind the thrust of her shield.  But this was for the best.  Fighting would not have given her the composure she needed, not tonight.  Her rage would have taken her far beyond any sense of rationality.  She had needed to centre herself, and for that she needed the guidance of the Maker. 

Leliana closed the chapel door quietly, but Cassandra knew that that it had made any noise at all was for her benefit.

“Have you come to seal my fate?  Or would no one take up the cause and tether themselves to one so desperate?  Am I to be carted away against my will, a lamb to the slaughter?”  The bitterness of her words annoyed her, apparently she had not quelled her emotions as well as she had thought.  Anger had been subdued with logic, the sense of injustice quashed by stark reality.  But her pride still reared within her, like a snake coiled and ready to strike.

“You will not need to leave.  We have found someone who has agreed to help you.”  Leliana lowered herself to the ageworn stone beside her, but Cassandra could not bring herself to look at the Spymaster, not yet. 

“And who is it that I am to be joined with?”  Leliana hesitated before she answered, it was unnerving.  Anticipation made her stomach roil, and sweat began to prickle along her brow despite the chilled atmosphere. 

“You must understand, with so many people away on missions and the deadline being so close…I only mean to say that he may not have been your first choice but the options were limited, and he did agree which does say something.”  

Her stomach clenched, and for a brief moment she thought she might actually be sick.  She had thought that the situation, as ridiculous as it was, could not possibly get any worse.  

“No.”

“Please Cassandra, just consider it for a moment.”

“Not him.”

“We had no other options, you know if we did—this has to be done tonight.”

“Anyone but him.”

“I am sorry Cassandra.  There is no one else.”  Leliana rose from her kneeling position.  “Varric is waiting in the war room when you are ready.”  

By the time Cassandra could bring herself to look up from the ground beneath her Leliana was already gone.  Unable to stop herself she let out a short clipped laugh.  “Maker take me, why do I do this to myself?”  Her pleas echoed off the walls around her.  “Why do I let myself hope, if only to watch it wither and die over and over again?” 

Cassandra let the white hot mixture of humiliation, bitterness and disappointment rage inside her for a moment, reveling in the anguish before clamping down on her errant emotions.  Here in her place of strength and solitude she readied herself for the battle ahead.  

   
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

When she was a child Cassandra had imagined her wedding day.  She had envisioned a warm summer’s morning, not the usual grey chill often seen in Nevarra.  She would have flowers from her mother’s garden, and the cooks would make her favorite honeyed cakes.  Nothing extravagant, but warm and comforting, _loving._

She had not thought of that particular memory for some time, possibly not since Anthony’s death.  No that wasn’t right.  When she had first fallen in love with Gaylan and they had spent stolen nights together secreted away from their duties they had joked of marriage, and she had told him of her youthful daydreams.

If they had been daydreams, then this was surely a living nightmare in comparison.

In the dead of night Cassandra forced herself across the empty courtyard, an early winter chill creeping under her armour.  She felt as if she was trudging through thick mud, every step an effort.  She had agreed to this, and it was the best option given her circumstances, but that did not mean that she had to enjoy what was happening.

Married to Varric.   _Ugh._

Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena _Tethras_.  Not that she would take his name of course.

It was just her luck really.  Of all the ways to make a bad situation worse.  If she had had her pick of men to be temporarily married to, Varric would not have been her first, second or even third choice.  But she would admit that as humiliating as the prospect of being married to that...that _dwarf_ was she did prefer it to the alternative.  The alternative being death of course.  Which should really count for something.  If she had been asked even a few months ago to choose between marriage to Varric and death, her decision might not have been so easily made.

They were constantly setting each other off despite their attempts to move beyond their past, two steps forward and one step back.  He made her _uneasy_ .  Like an itch she could not scratch, constant and _annoying._ Conversation between them never flowed as it did with others.  She watched him in his element, able to command a room’s attention with just his voice.  But with her, there was no rhythm.  When they talked, which was uncommon enough, it started and stopped, sticking and sputtering hopelessly until it either dwindled into uncomfortable silence or escalated into a screaming match.  They seemed to have no middle ground, no commonality.  

There had been a brief and welcome detente after he had written the newest chapter of _Swords & Shields _ for her.  The Inquisitor had been overjoyed at their newfound ability to be in the same room without being at each other’s throats.  But alas, it was not to be.  At least Varric hadn’t stooped to using her love of his writing against her, she would grant him that.

This however, this marriage, her desperation.  This he would lord over her without mercy, she was sure.  And what would she have to do to ensure his secrecy?  Bad enough to be married to him, but for everyone to know?  She had endured much in her lifetime, but this, this humiliation would be unbearable.  

Then again, he himself might insist on secrecy.  Cassandra could only wonder what Leliana had done to convince Varric to agree to this in the first place.  They were hardly friends.  Had Leliana threatened him?  Bribed him?  What had it taken for the esteemed Varric Tethras to debase himself and agree to marry the desperate Cassandra Pentaghast in her hour of need?

She was angering herself once again, letting her thoughts get away with her.  She would find out soon enough, all of the answers she sought lay ahead of her.  Quite literally in fact.  How long had she been standing there, at the door to the war room?  Her feet had guided her as her mind wandered elsewhere.  

Cassandra whispered a silent prayer, and pushed the door open.

\----

The door had seemed far heavier than normal, as if it had been pushing back at her trying to keep her out or perhaps testing her conviction.  Nevertheless, here she stood under the intense gaze of three sets of eyes.

“And there she is.  My blushing bride!”  Varric’s face bore his usual shit-eating grin, his arms spread wide as if to welcome her.  

Without a word Cassandra turned around and made for the door again.  Quick as an arrow Leliana was at her side forcibly guiding her into the room.

“You promised,” Josephine hissed.

“What can I say, I saw the opportunity and I took it.”  Varric leaned against the war table, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I am so glad you are finding my situation amusing, Varric,” Cassandra spat.

“Well someone has to, and it’s _our_ situation now, isn’t it.”  Varric’s face still held his usual grin, but his voice was just as venomous as hers.

“Ugh.  Don’t remind me.”

“Hey now, I can go if you’d like.  I’m sure you’ve got suitors just lined up outside.”  Cassandra visibly bristled.  “If not, I know a guy who trades in rare and dangerous animals, heard he’s looking for a mate for his bronto.”

“Varric, enough.”  Leliana was barely restraining Cassandra at this point.

“Nothing is worth this.  Nevarra can have me.” Cassandra jolted under Leliana’s grip.

“You are obviously both on edge, but can you at least be civil.”  Leliana positioned herself between the two of them.  “This will only get harder from here and there is no point in doing it at all if you can’t make it through the ceremony without killing one another.”

“I’m not the one prone to stabbing things,” Varric mumbled, earning him glares from all three women in the room.

“Just stand on the other side of the table, please Varric,” Leliana sighed.

How fitting that this be the room that they determine the particulars of their arrangement, for Cassandra felt like she was going to war.  Battle lines were to be drawn, armistices arranged.  But she knew better than most how rarely these treaties sustained themselves.  This would be an unmitigated disaster, she could feel it in her bones.

Josephine gathered a pile of papers together in front of her, nervously looking back and forth between Cassandra and Varric.  With a nod from Leliana, the Ambassador began to speak.

“If you are both ready then, shall we begin?  There are a few logistical matters that should be discussed.”  Josephine looked up at them from her papers as if expecting another outburst.  Finding nothing but grim faces, she continued.  “Firstly, the terms of the marriage.  Do you both agree that this marriage, although legally binding shall be no more than on paper?  You would both be free to live your lives as you see fit, with the exception of course of marrying other people.”

Varric and Cassandra nodded in assent.

“Excellent.  Secondly, do you both agree that this marriage will remain secret?  No one outside of this room, aside from Mother Giselle and the Nevarran’s will know of its existence.  Agreed?”

“Agreed.”  Both Cassandra and Varric replied hastily, which was a relief to her.

“And lastly.  Once a way for Cassandra to be free of the dealings with Nevarra has been found the marriage will be annulled.  Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

“Most definitely.”  Cassandra shot Varric a sharp look at his answer, understandable as it was.

“Now Mother Giselle has been informed of the situation, and has agreed to keep your secret.  However, she has made it explicitly clear that because of the well, _unique_ circumstances shall we say, that you will not be able to annul the marriage for the reasons of defect of contract as you are both knowingly entering the marriage with knowledge of the others intent.  Nor defect of will as you are knowingly entering the marriage under circumstances of simulation, knowledge of nullity and conditioned consent.”

“...Okay.  So what does that leave us with?”  Varric eyed Josephine skeptically.

“Non-consummation.”  

“Hmm, that might be a problem.”  Varric tapped his finger against his chin.

“What?!”  Cassandra gave him an incredulous look across the table.  He raised an eyebrow in response before bursting out laughing.

“I’m just kidding Seeker.  Maker, the look on your face.”  Cassandra heaved a sigh of despair.

“Would you take this seriously?” Cassandra said through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, yeah.  I agree, no sex.”  Varric waved his hands in the air as if to say happy now?

“Agreed.”  

“Well that is it.  Normally I would have you sign something, but as we do not want an unnecessary paper trail, verbal agreements will have to do.  Although Leliana and myself can both be counted as witnesses if the need arises.”  Josephine clapped her hands together.  “Shall we proceed to the Chantry, or do either of you have any questions?”

“What if there is no loophole, no way out of this?  Do we just stay married forever?”  For the first time since Cassandra had walked in the door Varric looked serious, and in that moment she felt for him.  She was not the only one affected by this situation, and she would have to do better to remember that.  

“Well yes I’m afraid.  But I am confident we will find something.  Or that the Prince Regent may choose to marry another when he learns that Cassandra is unavailable.  For now at least we shall look at this as a temporary solution to the problem.”  Josephine looked back and forth between Cassandra and Varric.  “Is that everything?”

Varric stepped back from the table.

“Alright Seeker, let’s do this.”  For a moment Cassandra thought she saw something grim and sobering pass over Varric’s face.  But it was gone so quickly she wasn’t sure it had ever really been there at all.  Maybe it would be best to talk with him for a moment, attempt to clear the air before they continued on.  

“Actually I would like a moment to talk to Varric if I may.  Alone,” she announced to the room.

“Of course.  We will be right outside when you are ready.”  Josephine gathered her belongs and left.

“Remember we need him,” Leliana whispered into Cassandra’s ear as she passed by her and followed Josephine through the door.

Varric remained on the other side of the room, arms crossed as he waited for her to speak.  Cassandra took a deep breath.

“Varric, I am...I’m sorry that you have been dragged into this matter.  If I could bear the burden alone, I would.”  Cassandra began to pick at her gloves.  “What I mean to say is thank you for your generosity, you were under no obligation to help—”

“Look Seeker, relax.”  Varric uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands in his pockets.  “I know you don’t have that high of an opinion of me, which I’ll admit is partially my fault—but I wasn’t about to sell you down the river.  Besides you’re already a pain in my ass just as you are, I can only imagine the trouble I’d be in if you became a Queen.”  From the look on his face Cassandra could tell that he meant no offense.

“Leliana did not threaten you?  All of your appendages are intact?”

“Nightingale?  No.  Ruffles on the other hand.  She’s surprisingly scary when she wants to be, we should all watch out for that one.”  Cassandra smiled to herself.

“We good?” Varric asked tentatively.

“Yes Varric, we’re good.”

“Alright then.  Let’s get hitched.”

\----

Under any other circumstances Cassandra would have thought that the Chantry looked quite romantic, lit with moonlight and candles.  Someone had even taken the time to clean the layers of hardened wax from the candle holders and the floor beneath them.  The air was fresher too, there was usually a lingering smell of mould and dust, had someone aired the space out after she had left?  Cassandra suspected Josephine had had a hand in this, an attempt to soften the blow most likely.  It only succeeded in making her wistful for what might have been, had her life been different.

Cassandra felt a small nudge at her back as Leliana guided her towards Mother Giselle, who stood waiting for them in the apse.  Her pulse quickened with every step, the weight of actuality setting in.  It was hard to tell in the dim light but Varric looked a little green himself.  He caught her eye and she quickly snapped her gaze up towards the Revered Mother, not wanting him to see the panic in her eyes.

“Welcome Cassandra, Varric.”  Mother Giselle greeted them.  “I trust that Josephine has spoken to you about my requests?  I do not take the sanctity of marriage lightly, but these are trying times and your reasons are just if...unconventional.  I will not have lies in this most holiest of places, but if you are true of heart and mind we may begin.”

Josephine and Leliana stepped back from the pair, leaving them alone in front of the Revered Mother.  At her insistence Cassandra and Varric turned to face each other.  

There was no escaping his gaze now.  For all the time that they had spent together, fighting with and against one another Cassandra wondered if she had ever really looked at Varric.  Beyond his wry grin and broken nose his face was hardened, from his adventures, from the elements or just from his life she did not know.  But it was a lived in face one that bore many stories as her own did.  If she knew him better she might have been able to discern what he was feeling at this very moment.  Was this as difficult for him as it was for her?  Or would the night barely register to him?  Would he store the experience away only to trot it out years later around a campfire or in a tavern somewhere?  Who wants to hear about the time I married the Seeker?

Cassandra looked at the ground between them and focused her breathing, lest she give into a momentary weak will and burst into tears.  She could not suffer another humiliation, not here, not now.

“Hey.”  Varric grabbed her hand in his willing her to look up.  He gave her an uneasy smile then cocked his head towards the Revered Mother who was beginning to speak.

“We are brought here before the sight of the Maker and the Holy Andraste to unite these two, Varric Tethras and Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast in blessed matrimony.”

Not so much as a smirk graced Varric’s features at the mention of her full name, it was unnerving.  Maybe he was taking this as seriously as her?  

“Here before these witnesses, and under the eyes of the Chantry may these two souls be brought together.  May they support one another through hardships and happiness, burdens and blessings.  May they walk in the light of the Maker’s grace and love.”  

To Cassandra’s right Josephine produced a small velvet bag from her pockets and handed it to Varric.  Cassandra dropped his other hand and he began to fumble with the delicate ties, a departure from his normally sure and steady hand.  With a little more effort, Varric opened bag and poured its contents, two delicate gold bands, into his palm.  

Varric cleared his throat before looking at Cassandra again.

“Right—ah, I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to... _care_ for this woman the rest of my days.”  

Varric waited, then glanced down at her hand and back up again.  Right, her hand.  He needed her hand.  

Cassandra tugged at her glove until it fell away from her fingers, pulling it off entirely in one swift jerk.  Leliana’s outstretched hand was there to accept the glove before Cassandra had even thought to offer it.

Cassandra’s bare hand hovered in the air between her and Varric.  Her fingers curled, their short, cracked nails just cutting into the flesh of her palm.  She had the hands of a warrior, hardened and coarse.  She envied the slim, gracile hands of a lady, those who had never known a day's work.  In her stories, those were the hands that were cherished, revered by suitors and lovers with gentle caresses and brushed with feather-light kisses.  Not her hands though.  Her hands could crack a man’s skull if necessary, wield a sword with enough skill to slice a beast in two.  She had never been so self-conscious of her hands as she was in this moment, an utterly idiotic worry given the circumstances.

Varric grasped her wrist gingerly and her fingers unfurled into his open hand.  He slid the cold metal band onto her ring finger and slowly let go of her wrist.  Cassandra pulled her hand back quickly, too quickly she realized when she saw Varric wince slightly.

It was her turn, she realized.

She took the second, larger ring from Varric’s palm, letting him divest of his glove before she began.  She didn’t want to look him in the eye, but he had done her the courtesy and so she would return it.

“I swear—” She realized belatedly that her mouth was too dry, and she had to wait for the moisture to return before starting again.  “I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to...”  What were the words he had used? “—to care for this man the rest of my days.”  Varric was ready for her where she had not been, and she took his proffered hand easily.  She absentmindedly traced the knuckles along his ring finger with her thumb before sliding the ring onto it.  His hands were just as rough as hers, calloused and scarred.  With just the light grasp she had on his hand she could feel the strength in his fingers, yet she knew them to be surprisingly nimble, delicate even.  An odd descriptor for the dwarf.  She made to let go but Varric held fast.

“By the power of the Chantry, by the Maker and the Holy Andraste I now pronounce you husband and wife.”  Mother Giselle’s voice rang out across the stone of the chapel, and hung heavily in the air around them.

Traditionally this is when the couple would kiss, solidifying their union as husband and wife.  She was not expected to though, was she?  Again, Varric was a step ahead of her.  He kissed her knuckles, right above the ring that sat solidly on her finger.  A sweet gesture if a hollow one.

Mother Giselle did not smile as Cassandra had thought she would.  This was not a joyous occasion and they were not two star-crossed lovers joining themselves forever.  They were making a mockery of marriage and of the Chantry.

Varric still held her hand in his and she would have it back, to retreat from this holy place in shame.  He was trying, she realized to comfort her in some small way, to ease her through this process.  It made her feel even guiltier, and she could not bear to look at him any further.

\----

It was late in the morning when Cassandra finally awoke.  Much later than her normal start to the day.  But she had been late to bed after the _events_ the previous night, and she had slept terribly in fits and spurts.  The work in the forge below had already begun, that she had slept through it at all was a testament to her exhaustion.

She willed herself to rise from her bedroll, treat the day as if it were no different from any other.  They had agreed that the marriage would be nothing but on paper, but she felt different.  Changed in some way.  Cassandra felt for the ring on her finger, only to be greeted by bare skin.  She felt a flash of panic before remembering that she had taken the band off the night before.  For such a small piece of jewellery it carried a heavy weight, and in her misery she had not been able to stand the look or feel of it against her skin.

Now, it was the only physical proof she had that the night before had actually happened and was not, as she had hoped some tortuous fever dream.  Cassandra picked up the ring from its spot beside her pillow and stowed it with the rest of her meager belongings before readying herself for the day ahead.

She had barely made it a few strides out of the forge before a red and gold blur came barrelling towards her.

“There you are, thank the Maker.  We have a problem.”  The words quickly poured out of him, leaving Varric looking frantic standing in front of her.  Cassandra was a bit taken aback, surprised to see him so soon after the night before.  He had seemed perfectly willing to move on as if nothing had happened just a few hours earlier, so why was he actively seeking her out now?

Varric grabbed her hand roughly.

“Where’s your ring?”  He had an almost accusatory tone.

“What are you talking about?  And keep your voice down,” she hissed back at him.  People were already beginning to stare, likely expecting some sort of knock down, drag out fight from them.  “It is upstairs.  Why would I be wearing it?”

Varric shook his head as if coming back to his senses.

“Right—Sorry.  Of course you aren’t wearing it.  You need to go get it.  Now.”

“Why, what is the matter?”  It was not like Varric to demand anything of her.

“The emissary is in the Great Hall waiting to meet you—meet _us_.”  Varric was getting restless, having begun to notice the stares.

“Fine, I will go retrieve it.  But calm yourself Varric, it is merely a formality.”

“Yeah, that’s not the problem Seeker.”  

“Then out with it!”  Cassandra was quickly losing her patience, wanting to put all of this behind her as soon as possible.

“The Prince came too, and it looks like he’s planning on staying.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wowzers, thanks for all the comments and support! The plan is to upload a new chapter every four days, though I did start posting earlier than I had intended in an attempt to spur myself into finishing the last few chapters so things may get a little choppy towards the end. Fair warning.


	3. Chapter 3

Varric nervously paced behind her, it was setting her on edge.  He had followed her back into the forge as if he didn’t trust her to retrieve the ring on her own.

“This is bad.  This is really bad.”  Cassandra rolled her eyes at his histrionics, placing her ring on her finger once again.

“Varric control yourself.  There is no need to become worked up over this.  So we will have an audience of two not one.”

“How are you okay with this?  I’ve got to say Seeker you are taking this  _ way _ better than I thought you would.”

“There is nothing to take, Varric.  We will simply tell them that they are too late.  I am already married and they can take their proclamations and declarations and…and—”

“Shove them up their ass?” Varric supplied.

“…quite.”  

“And when they ask why our certificate of marriage says we were married, wait how long has been?”  Varric made a show of counting on his fingers.  “Oh that’s right.  Less than a day ago.  What then.”

“We tell them the truth of course.”  Varric let out an exasperated laugh.

“The truth?  Have you lost your damn mind Seeker?”  Varric had suddenly shifted from anxious and panicked to visibly angry.  “You think we should just tell the Prince Regent who has ordered you under the penalty of death to marry him that you knowingly entered into a fake marriage just to spite him?!”  Varric let out a low growl, she could tell that he was trying to pull himself back, regain his temper.  “Mother Giselle may have been willing to bend the rules for us, but I don’t expect the rest of the Chantry will see it that way.  If we openly admit to the mar—to what we did last night being a sham that isn’t just grounds for annulment Cassandra, it makes the whole thing invalid.”

It took a moment for what Varric had said to register with her.  

Cassandra sank leadenly into the chair in front of her.  How could she have been so stupid?  

“But that means we…you and I.  We must actually  _ pretend _ to be married.”  Her voice was disturbingly high.

“Now she’s getting it.”

“And the Prince is staying?”

“Glad you’re caught up.”  Cassandra dropped her head into her hands.

“Well, shit,” she mumbled.

“…quite.”

\---- 

“We need a plan.”  Their positions had swapped, Varric now sat in the chair as Cassandra paced wildly about her room.

“We were already in a relationship, and to stop you from being taken to Nevarra we got married, good?” Varric said matter-of-factly. 

Cassandra stopped pacing a little deflated.  “Yes, that will work fine.  It’s simple enough.”

“Right, pretending we were in a relationship.   _ Simple. _ ”

Cassandra ignored his mocking tone and started pacing again.  “We will need ground rules.  No kissing, no unnecessary touching.  Hand holding is acceptable, but only if absolutely necessary.”  She pointed at him to emphasize her statement.

“Okay, then no stabbing, of me or my possessions.  No punching.  And no calling me  _ dwarf. _ ”  Varric pointed right back.  They stared at each other skeptically, mulling over one another’s demands.

“Fine,” said Cassandra tightly.   

“ _ Fine _ ,” said Varric with a hint of defiance.   

“We will have to be seen together more frequently, no more actively avoiding each other,” stated Cassandra. 

“Wait.  You actively avoid me?” Varric looked a bit shocked. 

“I mean—I…”  Cassandra sputtered.  “I just mean it would look suspicious if we didn’t at least acknowledge one another if we were in the same room.”

“So do we have to pretend constantly, or only in front of the Nevarrans?”

“One never knows who is watching.”  

Varric lolled his head back.  “This is going to be exhausting.”  

Cassandra sighed.  “I understand that this will be… _ difficult _ for you, but I will need to you  _ try _ Varric.  It is my future on the line.”  Varric had the decency to look just a little bit sheepish.

“Sorry Seeker.  I promise to be the best, most convincing fake husband you’ve ever had.”

“How very reassuring,” Cassandra drawled sarcastically. 

\----

Cassandra wished they had had more time to go over the particulars of their  _ arrangement _ , but Varric had begun to worry that they had been gone a suspiciously long time.  As such, they were currently standing just outside the doors to the Great Hall, attempting to psych each other up.

“It looks like you’ve eaten a lemon Seeker, loosen up.”

It was not going well.

“Everything is going to be fine, we’ve got this.  Well you’re a horrific liar, but this is what I do.  I’ve got this!”  Varric seemed like he was reassuring himself more than her.

“Is this your attempt at being supportive, because you are failing miserably.”

“Deep breaths Seeker.  We can do this.”  Varric gave her an awkward and uncharacteristic slap on the arm before turning to enter the Great Hall.

“I am doomed,” she whispered, stepping quickly to catch up with him.

At the far end of the hall Josephine was entertaining a small troupe of people.  It was obvious which one was Prince Caspar.  Although they were very distantly related they did seem to share some attributes.  Caspar was tall and lean, finely muscled.  He did not have her cheekbones but he did possess a similar profile, on her it had been called haughty, she supposed on him it would be considered dignified.  The most telling however was his hair, it was a similar shade of pitch as her own.

Varric whistled beside her.  “One guess which one’s the Prince.  Just how closely related are you?”  His comments barely made a dent in her concentration, as she steadied herself for what was to likely be a calamitous meeting if Varric had anything to do with it.  They did not play the Game in Nevarra, not as they did in Orlais but that did not mean her countrymen would not dissect her every word, every movement and gesture in great detail.  The societal realm that they were walking into was a battle field that she was regrettably unprepared for.  “You could still make a run for it,” Varric whispered to her, a mischievous glint in his eye.  “Just saying, I could probably hold them off.”  Whether he was trying to lighten the mood, or if he had noticed her unease she couldn’t say.  She was however, seriously considering his offer.  

Whether she would have turned and fled she would never know, for at that moment Josephine spotted them, and eagerly waved them over.  She stood out in her bright blues and golds against the group's reserved grays and blacks.  Her pinched smile the closest thing to an expression of geniality in a sea of stern brows and tight-lipped scowls.  “There they are, we thought we might have to send out a search party.”  Josephine gave a forced laugh, which was seemingly swallowed whole by the very presence of the Nevarrans.  They were the picture of solemnity, younger than she would have expected but just as dour as she remembered.  There were five other companions alongside the Prince Regent, dressed as stately as he though they did not have his carriage to pull off their finery.  None she noted, wore the traditional robes of the Mortalitasi, unsurprising from what she had heard of Caspar but remarkable nonetheless. 

“Sorry Ruffles, you know how it is.   _ Newlyweds _ .”  Grinning widely, Varric wrapped an arm around Cassandra’s waist pulling her closer to him.  She stiffened uncomfortably under the weight and resisted the urge to slap his hand away.

“Ah.  Then you must be Lady Cassandra.”  Prince Caspar stepped forward placing himself directly in front of her and clasped Cassandra’s right hand, kissing it lightly.

“Your Highness.”  She gave Caspar a tight, cursory bow using the motion as an excuse to step out of Varric’s grip on her waist.  

“And this must be your  _ husband _ .”  Caspar’s gaze flicked to Varric at her side, though he did not shift to greet him as he had her.

“Varric Tethras, at your service.”  Varric gave an overly exaggerated bow, his sweeping hand nearly brushing the floors.  His eyes however, never left Caspar’s.

“Yes, I was quite surprised to hear of your recent nuptials.”  Caspar’s attention returned to Cassandra.  “I had it on very good authority that you were  _ unattached _ as it were, Lady Cassandra.  I do hope that your rather…conveniently, timed marriage was not on my account?”  Cassandra balked, unsure if she should say something, but Caspar continued on.  “You see there seems to have been a rather embarrassing mix-up.  I have already explained it to your Ambassador, but if you would permit I would like to personally explain and apologize to you Lady Cassandra, for this entire, rather ridiculous situation.”  Caspar gave her a rather demure smile before extending his arm for her to take. 

Cassandra eyed Caspar’s arm hesitantly, she would rather not be alone with the man if she had the choice.  But it would seem that she did not, as Josephine looked at her sternly over Caspar’s shoulder.  She struggled to remember the appropriate mannerisms required of the station she had long abandoned, and stiffly placed her arm above Caspar’s.  “I hope you don’t mind I saw a particularly lovely area as we arrived that I would like to explore.”  With her hand hovering a mere hair's breadth above his Caspar whisked her away from the group and through the hall with enough grace and decorum for the both of them.

\----

Not that she had given it much thought, but Prince Caspar was not like she had expected him to be.  She was admittedly a tad unforgiving towards all things Nevarran, though she had good reason.  Caspar however, seemed to be trying to single-handedly break all of her conceptions of what it meant not just to be  _ from  _ Nevarra, but to  _ be  _ Nevarran.  Their stiff introduction aside he was, dare she say it, charming? __ He possessed an ease, a refined finesse that she envied.  He spoke well, and carried himself with a natural self-assurance that could command a room.  Yet he did not appear self-possessed, his movements as well seemed uncalculated.  What fazed her most though was the youth and vibrancy about him, notions that in relation to Nevarra were nearly unfathomable to her.  She would not be foolishly led however, this man had demanded her hand on pain of death.  Though she was having trouble reconciling those actions with the man in front of her, who was currently poking at a plant with great interest.

“What are these?  We do not have them in Nevarra.”

“Uh-I am not sure.”  Cassandra stared at him bewildered.  He had directed her towards a small area of wilderness, mostly secluded from the grounds.  “We did not expect you to come yourself...Your Highness,” she added belatedly. 

“Yes your Ambassador did seem quite surprised when I arrived on your doorstep this morning.”

“Then I am sorry that you came all this way for naught.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that Lady Cassandra.  I’m sure there is much that can be accomplished between Nevarra and the Inquisition.”  If there was anything more to his remarks his tone or expression did not betray it.  The absence of any allusions did nothing to ease the tension that had knotted itself into her neck and shoulders.

“Then you are planning to stay?” Her gut clenched tightly in fear of his response.

“Well, as you said.  I came all this way.”  He smiled brightly at her, the grip on her gut stayed just as firm.

“You said that there had been a mistake?”

“Oh yes, of course.”  Caspar abandoned the flowers and gave her his full attention.  “Forgive me, you must be wondering and here I am asking about the local flora.  You see this trip was meant to…how should I put it?  Test the waters as it were.  I have heard many great things about you Lady Cassandra, and as I’m sure you have heard about my  _ situation _ at the moment, I merely wanted to see if there was any chance if…well if you would be amenable to marriage.”  Caspar returned to the flowers, as if what he had said was of little consequence.  “You must understand, I  _ never  _ intended to force you into anything.  My advisors can be a little...over enthusiastic.”  Breaking a flower off at the stem he placed the bud carefully in a pocket at his chest and captured her gaze once again.  “I was not aware that their actions would be so  _ drastic _ .  I do extend my deepest apologies for what has occurred and for any trouble that it may have caused you.”

“...Thank you, Your Highness.”  Her response was slow and ungainly as a flurry of thoughts raced through her mind.  Whatever she had expected him to say, it had not been this.  

“No, I must thank you Lady Cassandra.  And I assure you I will have very stern words with my advisors for their abhorrent behaviour.  I’m very glad it seems that no harm was done, although I do seem to have caused a bit of a tremor within the castle with my unexpected arrival.  Rest assured I will apologize to your Ambassador most profusely for the disruption.”  Caspar extended his arm.  “Now, if I could escort you back, I’m sure I’ve taken up far too much of your time already.”

With barely a thought Cassandra took his arm and let him lead her back to the castle, the knots in her stomach had still not dissipated.  If anything they wrenched more violently than they had before.  Bile rose hot and rancid in her throat, Maker take her she would  _ not _ be sick.  She swallowed thickly.

“You have put me at ease Lady Cassandra.  I was so worried that my actions would have caused irreparable damages.”  

\----

Cassandra entered the hall in a daze, she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  On one hand she wasn’t about to be carted off to Nevarra, nor was she going to be executed.  On the other hand it seemed that she had put herself through intense emotional suffering  _ and _ gotten married, for no reason at all.  She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Varric until she had nearly tripped over him.

“Well?”  Varric looked at her expectantly.  “What did he say?”

She forcibly swallowed again.  “...He apologized.”  Her words were slow and stilted. 

“Apologized for what?”

“Apparently he never intended to force me to marry him.  It was a mistake, or a miscommunication—I’m not exactly sure...I think he wanted to court me?  It was all very unexpected.”  

“You don’t say.”  Varric looked almost as confused as she felt.  “Wait are you—” His eyes grew large in realization.  Varric grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the people milling about the hall.  Leaning in close he began to whisper, “Are you saying that we didn’t need to get married?”

“It would appear so,” she said listlessly.  His fingers were digging into her arm, she should shake him off but she seemed unable to muster the will to.  Varric released her arm and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“You know, and I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I actually miss the stabby, raging Cassandra that yells at me.  Because this”—Varric waved his hands between them—“whatever this is, this weird, calm thing you’ve got going on is freaking me out.  How are you not freaking out right now?”  She knew he was talking, she saw his mouth moving and the expectancy in his eyes yet the words floated around her as if apart of the very air itself.  His voice was barely discernable from the noise of the hall around her, every sound seemed muted as if a fog had settled upon her.  

Varric snapped his fingers in front of her face.  “Seeker?  You in there?”  She blinked in response unable to rally together anything more coherent.  “Well then this is probably a good time to tell you that Ruffles had all of your stuff moved to my room.”  Cassandra managed a lifeless hum.

Varric ran a hand over his face.  “Okay.  Nope—Seeker I think maybe you need to lie down or something.  ‘Cause I think you’re in shock, or are having a nervous breakdown.  And I really need you back because I cannot handle this by myself.”  Varric grabbed the nearest page.  “Find Leliana and Josephine and tell them to come to my room as soon as possible.”  The page nodded and ran off into the castle.  Varric turned back to Cassandra.

“Alright Seeker, just come with me.  We’re gonna get this whole thing sorted out.”

\---- 

She could hear Varric muttering and pacing off to the side, though to see him she would have to turn her head which felt an almost impossible task at the moment.  Her entire body felt leaden as if she was unable to move it.  When was the last time she had spoken?  Varric had been speaking to her, they had been in the hall.  They weren’t in the hall now, at least she didn’t think they were.  It was too difficult to hold onto a thought at the moment, they kept flitting into and out of her head before she could latch onto them.  Something thumped in the distance and Varric stopped his movement.  There was another voice now, but the haze was still too thick for her to make out what they were saying.

Leliana moved into her field of vision, she was standing above her.  She must be lying down, when had she laid down?  Leliana took a seat next to her and pulled off one of her gloves.  Cassandra felt the cool skin of the back of her hand on her forehead, then her neck.  Leliana sighed and shook her head above her before she felt a sudden and sharp sting across her cheek.

“Well I could have done  _ that. _ ”  Varric’s voice rang clear beside her.  Cassandra began blinking rapidly, then pushed herself up on her elbows, raising a hand to her jaw.  The pain was already receding, though she expected her cheek bore a striking red stripe across it now from Leliana’s hand.

“I am sorry my friend,” she said as she tugged her glove back on.

“No, thank you Leliana.”  Cassandra worked her jaw.

“Glad to have you back.”  Leliana gave her a smile before rising from the bed and crossing the room.  While she poured water into a mug from a pitcher atop a vanity nearer the window, Cassandra took in her surroundings.  She didn’t have to ask where she was, every aspect of the room spoke to Varric.  The desk to her right was covered in inkpots, empty and full alike.  Sheaves of paper littered the desktop, and scrolls lay scattered near the table legs.  Towers of books to rival Dorian’s own personal collection sat precariously stacked next to two large wingback chairs in front of a stone fireplace.  The colouring of the room suited him well, with its heavy fabrics and deep rich tones.  She wondered how much of the adornment was by chance, and what had been intentionally chosen by Varric.  The bedding under her fingertips was most certainly not the standard issue grey wools provided by the Inquisition.  It was unquestionably more inviting and comforting than her own quarters, though she had made little attempt to create any semblance of home with her own space.

Varric still stood by the entrance to his room, he had stopped his pacing but his fingers tapped hastily against the bicep of his crossed arms.  He was paler than usual, though she would not mistake his expression for concern, if anything he looked annoyed.  Leliana reappeared at her side and handed her the mug of water, effectively blocking Varric from her field of vision.  “Tell me what happened.”  Cassandra drained the glass before speaking.

“Caspar apologized for the whole affair.  He said it was never his intention to force me into marriage.  The summons were the work of his advisors, or so he says.  This trip was merely to be an overture for my hand.”

“Ahh, I see.  And if this were true than you would not have needed to get married.”

“Precisely.  I am afraid that the emotional strain of the last day caught up with me when I realized that it may all have been for nothing.  I am sorry if I caused any undue stress or worry.”  

Varric gave a pinched laugh in response.  Cassandra leaned around Leliana to be able to see him.

“Thank you Varric, for taking care of my lapse of self.”  Varric merely raised a hand in acknowledgement of her statement.

“Prince Caspar, do you believe his story?” asked Leliana.

“Even if I did, I do not think it advisable to make  _ another _ hasty decision and inform him of what we did.”  Leliana nodded in agreement.

“So what?  We keep up the charade until he leaves?”  Varric stepped closer to the bed, joining the conversation.

“I think it best, don’t you?”  Leliana raised an eyebrow at him.

“What harm is there in pretending a little longer,” Cassandra added.

“What harm?  I think we just saw exactly what harm this can cause.”  Varric gestured at her.

“This was...an anomaly.  It will  _ not _ happen again.  I assure you.”  Cassandra sat up fully on the bed, regaining her composure.

“Well it’s not really my place to decide is it?” Varric sounded aggravated. 

“No.  It is not,” said Cassandra sharply.  His concern for her was appreciated, but unnecessary.   

“For the record.  I don’t think this is a good idea.”  Varric’s mouth settled into a grim line, to match his furrowed brows. 

“Yes Varric, I think we can all agree on that.  However, it is the hand we have dealt ourselves,”  Leliana said as she took the empty glass from Cassandra’s hand and went to refill it.  There was a clipped knock at the door before it flung open and Josephine burst through.

“What has happened?  Is everyone alright?”  She sounded breathless as if she had run the whole way here.

“Don’t worry Ruffles, everything is fine.   _ Apparently _ .”  Varric sat down in one of the plush chairs, its tall back obscuring him from all but Josephine who hung in the door.

Leliana handed Cassandra the refilled glass.  “The plan has not changed Josephine.  I will keep an eye on Caspar and his envoys.  And Cassandra and Varric will continue to play the happy couple.  I trust you will be able to keep Caspar and his people busy as much as possible?”

“Of course.”  Josephine slowly closed the door behind her, still looking a bit bewildered.

“Excellent.  And are we ready for the dinner tonight?”

Josephine glanced down at her writing board.  “Almost.  The cooks were not pleased at the sudden change, but we will make it work.”

“Dinner?” asked Cassandra, looking between the two women.

“Wouldn’t want to insult his Princeliness by not acknowledging his presence now would we?” Varric grumbled from his chair.

“We most certainly would not.”  Josephine narrowed her eyes at Varric, as if pacifying a petulant child.

“Well then, if everything is settled I think we shall take our leave.  Play nice.”  Leliana patted Cassandra’s hand before crossing the room to follow Josephine who was already opening the door.  Cassandra watched the pair leave.  As Leliana passed through the door Cassandra’s eyes caught on a bundle neatly tucked inside the frame, against the wall.  She recognized it.

“What are my things doing here?”  Leliana and Josephine shared a look with each other before hastily swinging the door shut behind them.

  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Cassandra was constantly amazed at what Josephine could accomplish in such a short amount of time.  The Great Hall had been transformed in a matter of hours.  Tables had been set out, decorations placed, and minstrels sauntered around the room playing tunes lightly in the background.  The atmosphere was supposed to feel festive and inviting but Cassandra was on edge, due in no small part to her current seating arrangement between Caspar and Varric.  The rest of her dinner companions were not making the situation any better.  

Although Josephine was expertly handling the majority of the conversation between the Nevarrans and themselves, Cassandra had been left to handle Caspar singlehandedly.  Of course Varric was  _ supposed _ to be helping, but he had yet to do more than mutter sarcastic comments in her ear after everything the Prince said.  Worse still at the very last moment the Inquisitor’s party had arrived back early, between getting them suitable for polite company and finding them places amongst their guests they had received no more than a cursory, by the by, Varric and Cassandra got married—now will you be having the soup or the fish?   

As such the Inquisitor, who had been seated across from Caspar, could not stop looking over at the two of them and grinning madly.  And Cullen, who had been seated directly across from Cassandra kept trying to catch her attention and was attempting to convey some unknown message to her using only his eyebrows.  At least Solas seemed to be taking the news in stride, he hadn’t given so much as a questioning look to the pair since sitting down.  The trio would be informed of the particulars as soon as possible, they only needed to make it through dinner first. 

The rest of their compatriots, Bull, Cole and Sera, those who hadn’t been away with the Inquisitor and who weren’t still away on other missions, had been given a brief rundown of the entire situation before dinner.  However, Bull had preferred to sit with the Chargers, and thankfully Cole and Sera had been placed on the opposite side of the Hall entirely, just to be safe.  

Both Cassandra and Varric had argued for everything to remain a secret as long as possible but their pleas had been shut down repeatedly by Leliana and Josephine.  They couldn’t afford any messy mishaps, and it was unlikely that any of their companions would believe that the two of them had gotten married unless being explicitly and repeatedly told why.  Those who had been told had been asked to keep the information to themselves, but if the not so subtle glances and whispers around them indicated anything, word had invariably gotten out.  It seemed that they were in for a long night.

“I must admit, I did not realize the Inquisition was quite so large,” Caspar announced.  “It is really very impressive.  You must be quite the leader Inquisitor.”

Cullen was looking at Cassandra again, he had added pursed lip movements to his waggling eyebrows giving him a rather tortured expression.  She tried to ignore him and pay attention to what Caspar was saying but it was proving to be too much for Varric who was giggling into his glass beside her.  Not wanting to draw too much attention to either man she kicked Varric under the table.  Varric nearly dropped his glass in surprise and gave her a piercing look that said, you will regret that.

“—wouldn’t you agree Lady Cassandra?”

Cassandra’s head swivelled quickly to look at Caspar, she hadn’t the faintest idea what he had been talking about.  Thankfully the Inquisitor came to her rescue.

“Oh I would certainly agree that troop morale is directly related to their effectiveness,” she said with a tad too much emphasis.  Evelyn might be perceptive, but she was anything but subtle.

“Yeah, that’s why the Seeker’s only allowed to yell at them every  _ other  _ day,” Varric chimed in.  Cassandra’s shoulders tensed as Caspar laughed quietly.

“Sometimes a strong voice is needed, you can’t coddle the men.  They need direct guidance,” Cullen added giving her a reassuring nod.  Cassandra buried her face in her glass.

“Oh I quite agree Commander, I only mean that while you can direct with force, trust is often better seeded with kindness and support.  And you must agree you need both to produce qualified soldiers.”  There was a murmur of agreement to Caspar’s comments from the table.  “But shall we talk of something else?  You all must tire of talking about such things.”

As much as she feared what might come out of the mouths of her dinner companions, Cassandra hoped that someone else would speak.  These kind of events and the social graces they required were not her forte.  She would gratefully face a pack of wyverns with nothing but a butter knife, rather than be coerced into small talk.  Her tongue lay thick and useless in her mouth, her mind struggling to form a coherent thought.  The silence was becoming pronounced.  Despite her better judgement Cassandra nudged Varric gently with her elbow, if anyone could fill a silence it was him.  He gave her an overly innocent look.  She cringed internally, so this was to be his revenge.  She would get no help from him.  Cassandra breathed deeply.  If she must.

“And how was your journey, Your Highness?”  Alright, that was simple enough.

“It was very interesting actually.  I have not had the opportunity to travel much outside of Nevarra, so it was rather exciting to see such different landscapes and cities.”

“Is Nevarra very different then?” asked the Inquisitor.

“I must admit it is rather somber in comparison.  We spend so much time worshiping our dead it is hard to find a sense of vibrancy or animation within its borders—Maker look at me, I make quite the ambassador for my country don’t I!”  Cassandra was taken aback at Caspar’s comments.  They were practically treasonous, if it was possible for a future king to be treasonous.  Nevarra had been silently run by the Mortalitasi for generations, if this was how he felt then it was no wonder he faced heavy opposition to his rule.

“I’ve heard the Seeker express similar thoughts on many occasions,” said Varric brightly, Cassandra considered kicking him again.

“Well Lady Cassandra you have proven yourself to be quite the  _ revolutionary _ .  I would be most interested in your opinions on a number of matters pertaining to Nevarra.”  This was a dangerous game.  Was Caspar truly as forward thinking as he seemed, or was this some sort of trap?  Was she likely to end up on the executioner's block like her parents before her?  “But how did we end up here?  We’ve talked of war and politics, shall we go for the trifecta and tackle religion as well?”  Cassandra laughed politely with the others, and was granted a peaceful moment of silence while people returned to their meals.

To her side Caspar set down his glass and turned slightly to face her directly.

“Lady Cassandra do you keep in contact with your uncle?”

“Vestalus?  No, I have not spoken with him in some time.  I imagine you must see him frequently, he is still the Overseer of the Grand Necropolis is he not?”

“You are correct on both accounts.  He speaks of you often.  Though you aren’t quite how he described.”

“Oh?”  She hadn’t had contact with Vestalus in years, this was sure to be enlightening.  

“Yes I had expected someone a bit more... _ wild _ .”  Varric snorted beside her.  

“When Vestalus last saw me I was 12, trapped in an estate devoted to the dead and the dying, eager to leave.  Yes, I believe  _ wild _ would be an apt description.”  Cassandra wondered if wild had in fact been the word Vestalus had used, or if Caspar was simply being polite.  Her uncle had often described her as savage in her youth.

“He is very proud of you, you know.  Will tell anyone who will listen about his niece, the  _ Hero of Orlais _ .”  Cassandra groaned.  “Come now, you will have to tell me the entire story.  Vestalus would have my head if I did not hear it from you directly.”

“I am not one for telling stories Your Highness.”

“Oh don’t let her fool you, our Seeker here can spin quite a tale when necessary.”  Cassandra and Caspar turned to look at Varric.  What was he playing at?

“And here I thought you were the resident wordsmith Master Tethras, I heard you write.  Anything I might have read?”  For all Caspar’s perceived social grace and acumen, he did not seem to be hiding his sudden disinterest in the conversation.  As if the question was merely proper etiquette and nothing more.  Cassandra felt a flash of animosity on Varric’s behalf. 

“Unlikely, I don’t even think they sell my books in Nevarra.  But you know there might be a market there, just need to get the right topic.  What do you think Nevarrans would enjoy?  Gritty crime?  Political thriller?  No wait I’ve got it”—Varric snapped his fingers—“necromancy, that’s big up there right?”

Cassandra dropped her fork in surprise, it clattered loudly on her plate.  The Nevarran envoys at the other end of the table all fell silent at once, and Josephine looked frantically towards the Prince.  Varric, for all his glibness usually had far more tact than this.  To bring up necromancy casually in the presence of Nevarrans was grave insult enough, but to equate the two in such an outright manner, with such a thinly veiled accusation could be a political disaster.  Cassandra braced herself, unsure of what might come next as the two men on either side of her stared each other down.

“If you are so interested in the opinions of Nevarrans why don’t you just ask  _ your wife  _ Master Tethras?”  Cassandra winced and hoped it hadn’t been noticeable, Varric too looked mildly embarrassed as he realized his mistake, but only for a moment.

“I can hardly trust her opinions on my writing,” he said with a grin.  “She is a bit biased.  What did you say about the last one  _ my dear _ ?”  Varric’s gaze slid to hers and she stared wide eyed and taken aback at being brought into this mess of a conversation.  “—you called it  _ magnificent _ .”  Turning his face to Caspar’s again he continued, “It was quite possibly the worst thing I’ve ever written.”

“Oh no don’t—” Cassandra exclaimed before snapping her mouth shut, effectively cutting off her comment.  Varric was baiting her and she had fallen into his trap with ease, coming to the defense of his work.  Varric laughed.

“You see?  An utterly unreliable critic, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”  Varric smiled brightly at her and placed his hand over hers squeezing it lightly, before turning back to his dinner.  Cassandra waited.  Only once Caspar returned to his meal as well, followed by the rest of the Nevarrans did she relax again.  Gently removing her hand from Varric’s she cautiously began eating again.  Her fish was cold.

\----

Upon entering his quarters Varric headed straight for the bed, collapsing on top of the sheets.

“That was exhausting,” he mumbled into the mattress.

Cassandra sagged into one of the plush chairs in front of the unlit fireplace.  She agreed, the night had been overwhelming.  It reminded her of playing the Game, for which she had no patience.  Unfortunately she had little say in the matter at the moment, and the stakes were just as high.  

“It would not have been nearly as difficult if you had just kept your mouth shut  _ dwarf _ .”  After Varric and Caspar’s  _ exchange _ at dinner the rest of the evening's conversation had held a rather sharp and precarious edge to it, as if one wrong word would set the whole thing tumbling down.  But they had managed it fairly well, she thought.  

“That’s one,” Varric huffed, turning over on the bed.

“Don’t think I have forgotten about you putting your arm around me this morning,” Cassandra spat back.

“…Then we’re even.”  Varric conceded with a yawn.  

Cassandra rolled her shoulders before rising from the chair and beginning to unbuckle her armour.  She enjoyed the feel of the heavy metal and soft padding on her body, feeling bare and exposed without it.  But on nights like these, after a long day, it was nice to shed it and with it the stressors of the day as well.   

“So…”  Varric stared at her from the bed, his arms crossed beneath his head, propping it up.  “How are we doing this?”

“Doing what?”  Her voice was tired as she reached down to pull off her boots.

“Sleeping arrangements.  Are you expecting me to be a gentlemen?  ‘Cause I know from experience, these floors are unforgiving.”  Cassandra paused slightly, considering his statement before continuing with her other boot.

“We are both adults Varric.  Besides we have shared tents smaller than your bed before.”  Varric sat up.

“Yeah but those are tents, outside, in the wilderness.  Being uncomfortable is expected.  This is different.  It’s  _ my  _ bed.   _ Mine _ .”  Cassandra rolled her eyes and padded across the room in her bare feet towards the vanity.

“I’m sorry Varric, I did not realize you were  _ five. _  If it bothers you that much I will sleep on the floor, I am quite used to it.”  She poured some water from the pitcher into the basin and began washing her face.

“Are you sure?”  He sounded skeptical.

“I would not have suggested it otherwise.”  Cassandra took the pin out of her hair, letting her braid fall down across her shoulder.

“…Okay.”  Varric gave a quick shrug like he didn’t quite believe her, then swung his legs off the bed.  Cassandra listened to him putter around behind her while she finished combing out her braid.  They had shared a tent on numerous occasions before, she was therefore used to his nightly routine as she was sure he was to hers.  But for some reason this seemed more intimate than usual.  Maybe it was the confines of the room, or the soft candle light.  She normally associated these actions with being in the openness of the outdoors, lit by bright campfires and torches.  

She watched her reflection in the tri-fold mirror as she ran her fingers through her braid, loosening the plait.  Her eyes caught on her wedding ring, it was a fine piece.  Plain but delicate in nature.  She was not used to wearing jewellery of any sort.  It often got in the way, and the battlefield was no place for sentimental items that could be easily lost or broken.  It surprised her how unobtrusive the band was and how natural it looked on her finger.  Cassandra turned away from the repeated reflections in the mirror.  Thoughts of these nature, of a life that might have been would bring her nothing but misery now.  Better to ignore them altogether. 

Cassandra grabbed her bedroll from her small pile of belongings and unfurled it at the foot of the bed.  

“May I sleep here, or is this particular patch of floor also  _ yours _ ?”  She gave Varric a wholly insolent look.

“You know you take all the fun out of making fun of you.”  Varric frowned.

Cassandra rummaged through her pack and pulled out her usual long nightshirt, smalls that she really only used in situations like this, and the book she was currently reading.   This one was a tawdry romance set in Tevinter high society, on loan from Dorian.  Cassandra turned her back to Varric before stripping off her shirt and pulling her nightshirt over her head.  She quickly divested herself of her pants and pulled on her shorts, careful to let the shirt cover her legs as she did.  As with their nightly routines, it was not like they had not changed in front of one another before.  She wasn’t afraid or ashamed of nudity, she was a soldier after all.  She’d seen it all.  But Cassandra still felt a bit uneasy about the feeling of closeness that hung in the air, and she was in no hurry to give Varric an eyeful of anything.  She unwound her breast band under her shirt before carefully folding her clothes and storing them away in her pack.  

Cassandra settled into her bedroll as Varric passed by her blowing out candles as he headed towards the bed.  She heard rather than saw him pull the blankets back, followed by the sound of cloth hitting the floor as he discarded his clothes.

“Do you want the last light out?” Varric called from the bed.

“I would like to read awhile.  If you do not mind?” 

“Sure, go ahead,” he replied through a yawn.  Cassandra sighed.

“I do not mean to keep you awake.”

“It’s fine Seeker, just wake me up when you want me to put it out.”

“Varric, don’t be stupid.  Here—”  Cassandra slipped out of her bedroll, got up and walked over to the last remaining candle on the nightstand.  Picking it up she protected the flame as she carried it back to the end of the bed, placing it carefully on the ground near her pillow.

“Now go to sleep.”  Varric grunted in response.

Cassandra got comfortable once again and opened her book.

\---- 

Varric was fidgeting.  Every few minutes or so Cassandra could hear him shifting about in the bed above her, kicking the blankets back and forth.

“Varric?” she spoke quietly in case he was actually asleep.  He huffed in response.  “Would you like me to put the light out?”

With a gravelly sigh Varric responded.

“Get in the bed Seeker.”

“...Pardon?”

“You’re making me feel guilty about kicking you out.”

“I am not doing anything.”

“Well it’s keeping me up!  So just get over here.”

Cassandra hesitated, book splayed against her chest.  She had only just begun to feel at ease again with their proximity.  But she had been the one to insist that they were both adults.  That this was something they had done countless times before.  Well, not  _ exactly _ this. 

“Seeker if you don’t get up here I’m going to have to join you on the floor, which will aggravate my back—and that’s just gonna make me cranky and then—”

“—Yes, yes alright!”  Cassandra marked the page in her book and shut it, crawling out of her bedroll once again.  Picking up the candle she made her way to the head of the bed setting both the taper and her book on the nightstand.  Varric pushed down the covers and shifted to the other side of the bed.  Cassandra tried not to notice how the candlelight played off the tan skin of Varric’s bare back, or how his muscles strained under his movements.  Keeping her eyes trained on her side of the bed, she slid in and pulled the covers over her.  The sheets were warm where Varric had previously laid, and the pillow smelled like him.  Soap and wood smoke.   

“Night Seeker.”

She blew out the candle.

“Goodnight Varric.”

  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Varric snored.  

Well not exactly, it was more a whistling noise or a faint wheezing.  She suspected it was because of his broken nose.  Either way it was keeping her awake.  Cassandra glared at the dwarf in the darkness willing him to be quiet.  For a brief moment she thought it might have actually worked as Varric’s breathing returned to normal, until his breath hitched and the noise began again.  Louder, if possible.  Cassandra groaned into her pillow.  He didn’t normally do this, not during any of the other times they had slept together—slept _near_ one another she corrected herself.  Maybe she was always too exhausted to notice, sleeping through the offensive noise.  Or maybe it was because he normally slept on his side, in the small confines of a tent.

Cassandra would never have been so bold as to manhandle her comrades in their sleep under normal circumstances.  But these were not normal circumstances, and she needed to sleep.  She gently poked Varric in the side testing to see if he would wake.  Nothing.  Cassandra pushed the covers down and knelt in the bed next to Varric, she could just make out his form in the dark.  She placed one hand on his arm nearest to her and the other on his side just above his hip.  His skin was hot to the touch, his muscle firm under her fingers.  He was heavier than she had expected but she was able to shift him with some effort, rolling him onto his side.  Before she could stop it momentum took him and Varric kept moving, rolling flat onto his chest and bringing her down with him.  She landed hard across his back.

Varric jolted awake beneath her.

“Seeker?”  Varric’s voice was rough from sleep, he sounded very confused.

“You snore,” she replied, as if that was explanation enough.

“So you decided to smother me?”  Cassandra pushed herself off of Varric’s body, he grunted in protest at the extra weight pressing into his back.

“I was attempting to roll you onto your side, but you...moved unexpectedly.”  Varric slowly rolled back over and stared up at her.

“What happened to no unnecessary touching?”  Varric rubbed at his eyes.

“It _was_ necessary.  I could not sleep.”

“Unbelievable,” muttering Varric turned his back to her, pulling the blankets tightly around him like a protective cocoon.

“I did not mean to wake you,” she said, as way of an apology.  Varric ignored her in favour of trying to fall back asleep.

Cassandra laid back down, and tried to cover herself with the meager amount of blankets that Varric had left her.  Exhaustion winning out, she drifted into sleep listening to Varric’s even and thankfully quiet breathing at her side.

\----

Varric was already gone by the time she woke up, which surprised her as he was not known to be an early riser.  Though he was probably just as eager to be rid of her as she was him.  Cassandra stretched languidly in the empty bed, relishing the feeling of her muscles coming alive again.  She often thought of having a bed, or at least a cot moved to her space in the forge.  Sleeping on the hard ground was doing her aging body no favours.  But she didn’t _need_ one, merely wanted one so what was the use.  Let someone else have it.  Besides if she had her own bed as soft and inviting as this one she would never get anything accomplished because she would never leave it.  

Remembering the exact circumstances that had put her in this bed dissolved her good mood almost as quickly as it had come.  With any luck Caspar would decide to leave Skyhold within the week.  A week was doable, manageable.  But she wasn’t sure she would be able to play into this farce, which was getting more complicated by the hour, much longer than that.  There were too many elements to keep track of, too many things that went against her very nature.  She could try her hand at the lying and the deceit, maybe the new arrivals would not see through her awkwardness that those closer to her could so readily pick up on.  It was Varric that she was most worried about.  Well not Varric in particular, as bizarre as the entire situation was she was confident that he would be able to handle himself.  No, she was worried about the _relationship_ with Varric.  Close quarters, forced intimacy, she did not think it an understatement to hope that they both made it out of this alive.

With a rueful sigh Cassandra forced herself to the edge of the bed, reluctant to start the day.  The air in the room pricked at her face and slivers of bare skin at her neck, winter was almost upon them.  She shivered slightly when she pulled back the covers and the cool air hit her bare legs.  Was it too early to start lighting fires?  The fireplace in Varric’s room looked like it was hardly ever used.  No wonder, he was his own personal furnace.  Even when trekking through the highest snow-capped mountains he could barely be bothered to close his tunic.  Not that she was looking of course.  Cassandra was often cold, it was why she preferred the forge for her own personal quarters.  It was private yes, but the heat from the fires meant that the building maintained a consistently warm temperature.

She hurriedly went through her morning routine eager to feel the heavy and warm weight of her armour on her once more, like a second skin.  She rushed too, to regain the time spent languishing in bed.  Time better spent elsewhere.  The door however, gave her pause.  To open it would mean entering into a world she would much rather retreat from.  How long would it take for them to notice her absence if she chose to stay behind closed doors?  Varric was not hiding, he had not secreted himself away from duty.  The thought of looking cowardly next to him was motivation enough to swing the door wide.

\----

Cassandra wiped the sweat off her brow before taking a swig of water from her canteen.  She was nearly done with her personal training for the morning, soon she would spend some time overseeing the recruits.  She preferred to exercise early in the morning, rising not long after the rest of the castle workers.  She enjoyed watching the castle come alive as people started about their daily business.  Setting down her canteen she picked up her practice sword again and dropped into a loose stance before the training dummy.  The sounds of activity around her settling into an energizing buzz.  Her arm was raised mid swing when there was a shout from behind her, someone calling her name.  Relaxing her stance, and dropping the sword to her side she turned around to see who it was.  The Inquisitor and Cullen were coming towards her in fits and bursts of speed, as if trying to close the distance between them as quickly as possible but without actually running.

Cassandra waited until they were nearly upon her to speak.

“Good Morning.  Did you need me for something?”  She obviously knew why they were here, but she was feeling a bit obstinate this morning and did not feel like having this particular conversation for what felt like the umpteenth time.

“Cassandra,” Evelyn drew out her name.  “You’re married!”  Her voice was high with excitement.

“To Varric!” Cullen added with a similar incredulous tenor.

“Yes, unfortunately,” she huffed.

“We were gone a _week_!  What happened?”  The Inquisitor lowered her voice.  “You’re not—I mean…you know.”  Evelyn’s hands rounded over her stomach.

“What?!  No.  I am—” Cassandra lowered her voice.  “I am not pregnant,” she hissed out.  “Why would you even think that?”

“Oh.”  Evelyn actually looked at little disappointed.  “…Sera might have mentioned something.”

“I told you not to listen to her.”  Cullen looked rather relieved.  Cassandra ran a hand down her face.

“Yes, we are married.  No, I am not _pregnant._  It is all rather complicated, but we are _pretending_ to be in a relationship until Prince Caspar leaves.”

Evelyn and Cullen stared at her their eyes pinched, their mouths working silently with unspoken questions as they processed the information.  Cullen was the first to speak.

“…Why?”

“Prince Caspar wanted to marry, I did not.”

“So you married Varric instead?  That seems a little drastic,” he responded.

“Yes well.  What’s done is done I’m afraid.”  Cassandra silently willed this conversation to end, her peaceful mood ruined.

Evelyn’s face suddenly lit up.  “Dorian is going to have field day with this when he gets back.”

“ _Ugh._ ”  She hadn’t even thought about Dorian, he was going to be intolerable.  More than usual anyway.  

“Promise me you’ll let me be there when you tell him,” continued Evelyn.

“I will do no such thing!”  Cassandra bristled at the Inquisitor’s request.

“Okay Inquisitor time to leave.”  Cullen gave Cassandra an understanding nod and gently grabbed Evelyn’s arms, guiding her away.  Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose, she could feel a headache blooming between her eyes.  Evelyn’s excited rambling could still be heard in the distance.

“He’s going to be so angry he missed this—Shit!  Now I owe him 50 sovereigns.”

\----

Cassandra was making her way to the kitchens in search of something to eat, having missed lunch.  Cullen had excused her from training with the recruits early stating that he _understood_ if she needed to take some time for herself.  It had done nothing to improve her mood, though she suspected it had not been for her benefit anyway.

As she crested the top of the stairs to the Great Hall she looked for Varric in his usual spot.  She supposed she would have to talk to him, or acknowledge him in some fashion so as to keep up appearances if he was there.  Which of course he was.  She grudgingly made her way over to his table.

“Varric,” she said rather stiffly.  Varric looked up at his name.

“Cassandra,” he replied, copying her stern manner, before chuckling to himself.  “Take a load off Seeker.”  He pushed a chair out with his foot.  Cassandra hesitated before conceding and sitting down next to him.

“Lunch?” he asked.  She looked at him with faint surprise.

“Have you not already eaten?”  Varric shook his head no.

“Too busy.  Yourself?”

“I was just on my way to the kitchens.”

“Well that settles it.”  Varric caught the attention of the nearest page and asked him to grab them something from the kitchens.

“Do you often have others fetch food for you?”

“Well the cooks got angry with me skulking around the kitchens, and a man’s gotta eat.”  She gave weak smile in response, and the conversation devolved into silence.  Then all at once.

“What have—”

“I wanted to—”   

They both stopped speaking abruptly.

“Go ahead,” said Varric.

“I wanted to ask you about the fireplace in your room.  Would you be opposed if I started using it?”

“You did seem a little cold this morning, you were all curled up on yourself when I woke up.”

“Well that might have been because you took all the blankets last night,” her tone darkened.

“Ohhh no, you don’t get to play the victim here Miss tries-to-smother-people-in-their-sleep.”  Cassandra scoffed.  “Besides, I tucked you in when I left.”  

Cassandra looked at Varric in surprise, she _had_ woken up warm and covered in blankets and thought nothing of it at the time.  She was a bit taken aback.

“I mean,” Varric coughed.  “You can use the fireplace.  Sure.  Whatever.”  Just then the page returned with their food, and Varric quickly shifted focus.

They ate in silence.  Cassandra was annoyed at herself for snapping at him.  Wanting to try and extend some kindness back towards Varric as he had apparently done for her she tried to restart the conversation.

“Before…you wanted to ask me something?”  It took a moment for Varric to catch up with her train of thought.

“Oh, yeah.  It wasn’t anything important.”  For once, Varric seemed determined to keep his mouth shut.

“It’s fine really.”  Could he not see that she was trying to make an effort?

“It was nothing…just wanted to know what you’d been up to today is all.”

“Oh.”  It really had been nothing.  Well, she had insisted.  “I trained for a while, and then trained with the recruits.  Although I believe I may have been too hard on them this morning, Cullen sent me off before we were finished.”

“So you saw Cullen?”

“Yes.  And the Inquisitor, they came to talk to me about… _well_.”  She gave him a knowing look and he nodded in understanding.

“So they know?”

“More or less.  I did not want to get into the whole thing _again._  Although you should probably know, in case you hear it from someone else.  There is a rumor going around, I suspect Sera is to blame, that I am pregnant.”  Varric choked on a mouthful of food and descended into a coughing fit.  Cassandra rose out of her chair to help, but Varric waved a hand at her to sit back down.  He took a long drink from his glass to regain his composure.

“Are you alright?”  Varric nodded weakly his eyes still pressed shut.

“A little warning next time Seeker.”  Cassandra rolled her eyes.

“ _Men._ ”

In the corner of her eye, Cassandra saw Leliana walking across the hall towards them.

“Good day Leliana,” she called out, thankful for the interruption.

Leliana sidled up to the table.  “And how are my two lovebirds this afternoon?”  

“We are surviving.   _Barely_.”  Cassandra gave Varric a pointed look as she spoke.  “Has there been any news?”

“Nothing has changed I’m afraid.”  Cassandra knew not to expect something to happen so quickly, but she was still disappointed at the fact.  “Although I hear congratulations are in order.”  

Varric started coughing again.

“Ugh.  Do not remind me.”

“Don’t worry, I will have a talk with Sera.”

“Thank you.”

Leliana leaned a bit closer to the table and lowered her voice, “Caspar’s men are watching you two, it would not hurt to show a little _affection._ ”  She leaned back.  “I will leave you be.”  

Cassandra watched Leliana’s retreating form until she had passed through a door and into the depths of the castle.

“Well, I still have a lot of work to do so...” said Varric.

“Yes, I shall be going.”

They stared at each other across the table as if waiting to see which one would break first and suggest something.  Cassandra was not comfortable with public displays of affection _normally_ , knowing that they had an audience, that they were expected to _perform_ , was far worse.  Of course Varric seemed perfectly at ease, as if their situation was in any way normal.  She supposed she would have to take the lead, lest they sit here until the night drew in.

“I’m going to kiss you,” she stated.

“Wow Seeker, for someone who reads a lot of romance novels you could use a few pointers,” Varric laughed.

“I only meant to give you a—a warning, so you would not have some sort of fit again,” she stumbled over her words.  There it was again, that familiar _unease._

“Do men normally have fits when you kiss them Seeker?”  Cassandra huffed, he was enjoying this.  

“If I strangle you does that count as affection?”  Varric relaxed back into his seat.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

In one swift, and what she hoped looked natural, motion Cassandra leaned across the table, placed a hand on Varric’s shoulder and kissed him on the cheek.  

His skin was smooth under her lips, he must have shaved this morning.  It would explain why he smelled so strongly of soap.  But the traces of wood smoke that had lingered on his pillow and sheets the night before were there as well, in his hair she realized as a few strands fell across her nose.  She suddenly felt warm all over, as if transported back to the comforting and inviting bed the night before when she had first associated those scents with Varric.  Cassandra pulled back needing fresh air.  Varric caught her hand before she could remove it from his person.

“See you later Seeker.”  He winked then dropped her hand.  Trying hard to act normal, and not as if she was suddenly affected Cassandra rose fully from her chair and retreated through the main doors.

\----

The sun had long since set and Cassandra had rather regrettably finished all of her reports and correspondence despite taking her time.  She no longer had any feasible reason to not turn in for the night and return to their room— _Varric’s_ room.  She was _not_ avoiding him, she told herself, repeatedly.  

The incident in the Great Hall that afternoon, which really wasn’t an incident, more of an aberration, a peculiarity at best, was still itching at the back of her mind.  She had been _affected_ by the kiss, and it was suffice to say, a bit of a surprise.  There was no bother trying to deny to herself that kissing Varric, as seemingly innocent an action as it was, had stirred something within her.  Something that made her pulse quicken, her skin tingle, her breath catch.  

There were a number of reasons why this could have happened, the most blatantly obvious being that she had not been physically intimate with someone, in any sense of the word, in quite some time.  Her reaction could very well be purely physical.  They were also sharing very close quarters, that combined with them pretending to be husband and wife may have triggered her own feelings.  This was something she wanted, a relationship, a closeness, an intimacy with someone.  That it happened because of Varric was beside the point, it could very well have happened with whomever she had been paired with.

But with all her reasoning, her convincing that her feelings were not actually because of Varric but merely the situation she was in, the prospect of seeing Varric again, sharing a _bed_ with Varric again was a reality that she did not want to face.  

It was quite late, but Cassandra no longer had any reason to not return to the room.  If luck was on her side Varric would already be asleep when she arrived.  She was fully aware that whatever had awakened within her would have to be addressed at some point, but she would be able to better process her feelings with a good night’s sleep.

When she arrived at the room it was cold and dark.  She groped in the moonlight for a candle and lit it.  The room was empty, Varric had not yet returned.  Maybe he had had the same idea as she, and had also been trying to wait for the other to return in order to minimize their time together.  Cassandra felt a brief flash of shame.  How were they ever going to convince anyone that they were married, and _in love_ when they couldn’t even bear to be in the same room with one another?  As much as she dreaded it, she really would have to put more of an effort into their relationship.  She cringed at the very thought of it.

Cassandra went about getting ready for bed, if she was lucky she could fall asleep before Varric came back to the room and postpone making more of an effort until the morning.  She debated whether or not to light a fire for the night, but then again if she were able to claim the blankets first she would not need one.  Leaving the fireplace be, Cassandra slid into bed.  She was just about to blow out the last candle, but thought better of it, better to leave some light for Varric when he returned.

\----

Cassandra blinked awake, the bed shifted with the weight of someone getting in.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Varric whispered behind her.

“What time is it?” Cassandra mumbled over her shoulder.

“Late.  Too late, got caught up with Tiny and the Chargers.”  Varric paused.  “You weren’t waiting up were you?”  Cassandra shook her head no.  “Well, thanks for the light.”  

Varric blew out the candle and settled down behind her.  Cassandra released her hold on the blankets when she felt Varric tug at them gently.  

She was nearly back asleep when Varric spoke quietly, “Seeker...can I ask you something?”  She mumbled in assent.  “Why did you pick me, to marry you I mean?”

“I didn’t pick you, Leliana and Josephine did.”  Her voice was still heavy with sleep but she was slowly coming back to consciousness.  “I was told there was not much choice.”

“You sure know how to stroke a man’s ego.”  Cassandra turned over so that she was facing Varric, she couldn’t make out his face in the dark but at least this way she wasn’t talking to the wall.

“That was...callous of me, I apologize.  Though I will not lie to you Varric, you would not have been my first choice, or even my second—but you aided me in my time of need and so I am sorry for discounting your merit.”

“Where did I fall...in your list of fake husbands?”

“...Varric,” her tone was threatening.  She wished she could see his face right now.  Was he teasing her? What had brought on this line of questioning?  If she wasn’t aware of Varric’s personal aversion to drink she would have thought him drunk.

“Oh come on if not second then what third?”  This was not a conversation that she wanted to have.  “Not third?  Fourth?”

“Fourth,” she said reluctantly.

“Fourth?!”  He exclaimed in disbelief.

“Yes Varric fourth.”

“Behind who?  I’m at least in front of Chuckles right?”

“Varric, it is late.”

“Oh no Seeker, you are not going back to sleep until you tell me who beat me!  I mean you’ve seen my chest hair right?”  Cassandra smiled to herself, but would not give him the satisfaction of laughing.

“If I must,” she sighed half-heartedly.  Was it the dark, the anonymity it provided?  Or was this an after effect of this afternoon?  For what might be the first time ever, she felt comfortable in Varric’s presence.  Was this what it was always like for the others, this easy banter?

“So who was your first choice?  Who does the indomitable Cassandra Pentaghast deem worthy of her hand in fake marriage?”  She felt the bed shift slightly and watched the outline of Varric’s form as he moved to his side, facing her.

“Cullen.”

“Ahh, of course.  Tall, rugged, ex-templar, determined to do better.  Can’t fault you there, he’d probably be my first choice too.”  Cassandra let out a sharp laugh, startling herself in the process.  “Bad luck that he was away.  Then again I’m not sure the Inquisitor would have been too happy if you had married him.”

“What?  The Inquisitor and Cullen?”  Now it was her turn to sound surprised.

“You mean you haven’t noticed all the puppy dog looks?  The awkward conversations?  You know sometimes I really question your observational skills.”  Cassandra huffed, but stored the information away for later when she would have time to talk with Evelyn or Cullen about it.  “Number two?”

“Bull.”

“Seriously?”

“What can I say, I enjoy his attention.  It is nice to feel wanted.”  Maker what had possessed her to say that?  To Varric of all people.  “But the Qunari do not believe in marriage,” she continued on quickly,  silently praying for Varric to let her confession pass unremarked.   “It would never have held up.”

“Third?”  Apparently her prayers had been answered.  She would have breathed a sigh of relief if she had not thought Varric would feel it, being so near to her.

“Dorian.”

“Okay, now you’re just messing with me.”

“We share a love of literature.”  Varric snorted, Cassandra ignored his commentary.  “He is very easy to talk to...when he is not talking about himself.”

“But comes with a rather major complication.”

“Hence...”

“Hence, not much choice...still though fourth?”

“You are not last if that makes you feel any better.”

“Who’s even left?  Chuckles and the Kid?”  He did not mention Blackwall—No, _Rainier_ , and she was glad for it.  “That does not make me feel any better.”  Cassandra suddenly worried that she had offended Varric, that she had spoiled their sudden ease.  But she felt the bed begin to shake as he started laughing.

“What is so funny?”

“Just imagining you married to Chuckles.  Where does he even sleep, the rotunda?”  Laughter bubbled up from within her as well, she couldn’t help herself it was infectious.  After a time Varric slowed to a chuckle before stopping altogether with a sigh that she felt rather than heard.  “Sorry that you ended up with me Seeker.”

“Well...it has not been as bad as I expected it to be, we are both still alive—”

“—It’s only been two days.”  He reminded her.

“Regardless.  Thank you Varric for agreeing to this, I do not...I do not know what I would have done if you hadn’t.”

“Hey,” Varric’s voice was suddenly much softer.  “Don’t worry about it you’re safe, even if this does turn out to have been a whole big misunderstanding.”

“I don’t know how I will ever be able to repay you—”

“—Friends help friends Seeker.”  His statement caught her off guard.

“Are we friends?”  Her voice sounded almost hopeful, which was a shock to her.

“I think we could be... _if_ you promise to keep all sharp objects to yourself.”  She could almost feel his grin, Cassandra smiled to herself.

“Varric Tethras you are ever the surprise.”

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera—”

“Ugh.”  She rolled her eyes, even if he couldn’t see it.

“—Filomena Pentaghast, I enjoy surprising you.”

“Tethras,” she added.

“What?”

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast- _Tethras_.”  It had been intended as a joke, but the moment his name passed her lips she felt the dynamic of the room change.  The air hung between them, heavy with their mingled breath and the sobering reality of her offhanded comment.  Maker she wished she could see his face, not that she had ever had much success in reading his expressions.  She cursed the darkness of the night around her, which she had delighted in not moments before.  She felt Varric roll onto his back away from her.

“That’s it.  That’s what it was missing, gives your name a sense of austerity—a _gravitas_ that the other six were just solely lacking.  You’re welcome.”

“Goodnight Varric,” she said with a chuckle and a sense of relief.

“Night Seeker.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is gonna sound pretty conceited but I really like this chapter you guys, so I hope you did too!!


	6. Chapter 6

 

Cassandra awoke to an empty bed beside her, again.  That was two days in a row now, and she was beginning to wonder where Varric was going at such an early hour.  The thought passed easily though as she relished in the ability to stretch out fully along the mattress.  She could get used to this level of comfort, a small indulgence in the grand scheme of things.  Varric’s spot on the bed was still warm to the touch she noticed as her hand passed over it, he had not been gone long.  With her face turned into her pillow she could still smell traces of his scent, she had not erased it with her own just yet.

Cassandra’s mind wandered still cloaked in a haze of sleep.  She tried to think about the day ahead of her but the warmth of her surroundings drew her back into a cloudy daze and her thoughts turned again almost naturally to Varric.  Thinking about what he might look like rising in the early morning sunlight instead of the dim muted light of a tent.  Sun glinting off his hair, bringing out the errant golden strands.  A shadow of stubble whispering across his cheek and jawline.  His broad chest and heavily muscled arms—Cassandra’s stomach flipped and her eyes snapped open, she was hot.  Too hot.  She kicked at the blankets forcing them down to the end of the bed.  Her breathing had become shallow and her face and chest were flushed in a twisted mixture of want and embarrassment.  The cold air of the room was doing nothing to dissipate how warm she felt all over.  But the air was not cold she realized, it was warm and a little smoky.  She propped herself up on her elbows.  There was a small fire burning in the fireplace.  Varric must have lit it  _ for her _ .  Cassandra’s stomach flipped again.  With a groan she fell back into the mattress frustrated with herself and her emotions. 

\----

For the first time in ages she deviated from her routine.  Instead of training first thing in the morning, Cassandra made her way to the Chantry.  She had hoped that a good night’s rest would help clear her mind, make her see sense in regards to her preposterous feelings about Varric.  But evidently, it had not.  She wouldn’t be able to train effectively with her mind as muddled as it was.  No, she needed time to collect her thoughts. 

The chapel wasn’t empty, but morning services would not start for another hour so it wasn’t full yet either.  She would have liked to go to services more regularly, but the Inquisition kept her busy, rightfully so, and it often wasn’t possible to make the time.  Spending years on the road however meant that Cassandra was used to making her own time for solitary prayer and worship.  A formal service was nice, but not necessary.  She selected a pew near the back of the room and sat, head bowed, in silence.

When had this started?  The kiss in the Great Hall?  No.  She had been feeling at odds about Varric earlier than that, in his quarters the first night.  But that had been the atmosphere of the room not him.  Then was it the kiss?  Surely her reaction to it had been because of the act itself though, the physical intimacy and not the recipient.  That morning however, that was a little harder to explain.  The other feelings could easily be attributed to being purely physical, obviously her body was confused by the intimacy of their situation.  But her thoughts had betrayed her this morning, imagining Varric there with her.  The feel of his warmth beside her, his scent lingering on the sheets around her.  She knew what he felt like, the taut muscle of his arms, the heat of his tanned flesh, just thinking about it again made her whole body come alive.  Like the crackle of the air during a lightning storm, her skin tingled with a sort of heady want.  It was so personal, so specific to Varric that it couldn’t be just a physical reaction to their forced intimacy.  Then what was different, what had changed?

Cassandra recalled their conversation the night before.  It was difficult to remember exactly, she had been on the cusp of consciousness.  But she remembered that it had felt dissimilar to her normal conversations with Varric.  There had been an easiness to it, a fluidity that they normally lacked.  It was comfortable, and possibly even friendly.  Was that it then?  Was her subconscious confusing their burgeoning friendship with a romantic relationship?  She had not thought her own mind so easily swayed but it was the only explanation she could think of.  It wasn’t like she was actually attracted to Varric.  Sure, he had a certain rugged handsomeness about him, once one got past the ostentatious display of chest hair.  Also his arms were rather impressive for one who claimed writing as his profession.  

Cassandra’s mind flickered momentarily back to the first time she had seen the reality of the strength required to wield Bianca in the flesh.  It had been on a mission through the Hissing Wastes, a place they both equally despised.  Varric’s unnatural quiet at his displeasure was what had first alerted her that something was different.  She had turned to comment on his silence when she realized that he had shed his duster and familiar red tunic in favour of something more suited to the environment.  Hard muscle coiled along his bare arms, bronzed from the steady rays of sun, glinting with the sheen of sweat that was a constant presence on all their skin in the sweltering heat.  Her comment had dissolved in her mouth as quickly as water hitting the sand that surrounded them.  Maker take her she had nearly tripped over her own feet in her shock.  Gawking like a maiden she had recovered her senses not a moment too soon, for the next minute a group of Red Templars had descended upon them.  The fight had been short, their victory easily won but the Inquisitor had mentioned that she seemed distracted.  She had blamed it on the heat, not exactly the truth, but worse still not exactly a lie.

Cassandra straightened in her seat, bringing herself back to the task at hand.  Aesthetic attraction aside, in future she would have to work harder to not misinterpret her own feelings.  She would not want to jeopardize the relationship that they were actually building by fabricating one they weren’t.  Nor would she want to put Varric in an awkward position, well, more awkward than their current one.

The buzz in the chapel had been steadily growing around her as more people had begun filtering in for the morning service.  She had stayed longer than she meant to.  This had been helpful though and she was satisfied with her conclusions regarding her feelings about Varric.  

After a quick prayer, Cassandra left the Chantry and headed to her normal training grounds.  With a clear mind and reinvigorated spirit, she found that her training went remarkably well.

\----

Cassandra and Cullen watched as the forces dispersed for the day.  Their training had not gone nearly as well as her own had, but the troops were improving and that was all that could be hoped for. 

“Do you think they’ll be ready?” asked Cassandra.

“To face an ancient god and an army of demons?  No I don’t think they’ll be ready.  But it is our duty to prepare them as best we can.”  Cullen’s voice was dark, but there was no malice in his statement.  It was merely the truth.

“You are a good instructor Cullen, fear not.  Besides, whatever your teaching may lack the Inquisitor will make up for with inspiration.”  Cullen smiled discreetly, turning his head slightly so that she might not notice.  She did.  The offhand comment that Varric had made the night before filtered into her mind, maybe there was something to it after all. 

“I’m afraid I have a meeting to attend.  Till tomorrow.”  Cullen gave her a short nod before retreating and leaving her in the yard alone.  

Her stomach growled, hours of training had worked up an appetite that she could no longer ignore.  Her hunger steered her towards the Great Hall, normally it was a path she avoided but for once she did not dread the prospect of running into Varric.  Feeling emboldened by her morning she crossed the yard and considered taking her renewed sense of resolve a step further, perhaps she would offer to lunch with him once again.  They were supposed to make more of an effort to be seen together after all.

Cassandra crested the steps to the hall with a confident ease in her stride, and headed for Varric’s usual spot.  She had barely made it through the threshold of the door when there was a hand on her shoulder.  Cassandra turned to look at the hand then followed the length of the arm to its owner, Prince Caspar smiled back at her startled face.

“Lady Cassandra, I am so glad to have caught you.  I realize it is rather late in the day but would you be so kind as to join me for lunch?”  It was like an art form or a skill to be cultivated, she thought, to pretend to ask for something when you knew you could not be refused.  She looked behind her into the hall searching for Varric. “Did you already have plans?”  He was at his table by the fireside.  As if he sensed her stare he looked up and their eyes caught.  Varric’s face broke into a smile, and there it was, that same churning in her stomach.  Cassandra wanted to return his smile, wanted to refuse Caspar’s request and leave him standing rejected in the doorway.  But she could practically hear Josephine in her head as if the Ambassador was there instructing her over her shoulder.  Reminding her of duty and obligation.  She turned back to Caspar.

“No, Your Highness.  No plans.”  It was the truth, yet she still felt a twinge of guilt.

“Excellent, and please call me Caspar.  I insist.”  He pressed a hand into her back and turned to lead her back down the stairs.  Cassandra risked another look back at Varric, as if to say sorry, another time but he had already turned away.

\---- 

There was a table set up in the Chantry garden, there were two places set.  Not an impromptu invitation then, she noted.  Caspar pulled out a chair for her and she sat down.  She was torn between wishing there were more people around to make this seem less private, and being glad that they were relatively alone so that this entire spectacle was not witnessed. 

“Skyhold has such lovely wilderness, I am determined to enjoy it.  Nevarra City is filled with art and statues but there is nothing this  _ rustic _ .”  Cassandra took offence to his choice of words, it was deliberate she was sure, nothing nobles said was not.

“Nevarra chooses to preserve instead of grow.”  She regretted her comment immediately.  This was not a game and she would do best to remember that.  But she was used to her fists getting her into trouble not her mouth.  “That was impertinent of me Your Highness—”

“No, no!  It is refreshing to hear actually.  My advisors…they are mired in the old ways, the grand traditions.  But you understand.  Nevarra must change in order to keep up with the rest of Thedas.  This is the Dragon Age, we should be thriving not pulling ourselves through the dust trails of Ferelden and Orlais.”  Caspar was talking animatedly, gesturing wildly with one hand while trying to pour her a glass of wine with the other. 

“What would you change if you could?” she questioned.  Caspar finished pouring her drink, then poured his own.

“Would it be too ambitious to say everything?”  Cassandra tried to keep her face impassive, but the boldness of his statement caused her eyebrows to raise.  “No you’re right, it is.  Small things then, until I can convince the populace otherwise.  For example, the Duchess’s Games are a perfectly fine tradition.  But they could be so much more!  Contests of rhetoric and philosophical debate between Cumberland and the Free Marches, why not all of Nevarra, why not Ferelden and Orlais as well?”

“You would give the citizens of Nevarra a national platform to speak their minds?”  Caspar’s face lit up.

“Exactly!”  His enthusiasm was refreshing as were apparently his politics.  Cassandra eased a bit more into her surroundings, admittedly, the wine helped.

\----

They talked of politics, and literature.  He asked about her past, her youth spent in Nevarra, her time with the Seekers.  She was reluctant to say much about herself but in return he told her about his own youth.  Growing up as a bastard son to the King, both expected to deny his claim to the throne but unable to escape it.  An hour ticked by, then two.  He was charming, more so than she would have liked to admit.  But there was still something about him that pulled her back, caused her to reign in her emotions lest she get carried away.  Caspar noticed her reticence.

“Cassandra you are delightful, this”—he waved a hand in the air—“has been delightful, but I get the feeling that you are holding back.”  Cassandra started, unsure what to say.  “No.  No need to explain, I can guess why.  Our introduction was… _ unfortunate _ , but you are truly a remarkable woman Cassandra and though I do not expect you to trust me, not yet anyway, I appreciate your candor and your honesty and would gladly bend an ear to whatever you might have to say.”

“Thank you Your”—Caspar raised an eyebrow—“…Caspar, for your kind words.”

“I would like to do this again Cassandra, if your Ambassador’s schedule will allow it,” he said with a grin.  Though the afternoon had not been as unpleasant as she thought it would be, this was not something she wanted to repeat often.  What did he want of her anyway?  If he wanted her opinions on Nevarran politics she did not want to cross further into the subject than she already had.  One false step, a comment too far and she could end up with the same fate as her parents.  And if he was not interested in her politics?  She was a married woman now, not that she wanted to hide behind a man but it did serve a purpose.  The thought gave her pause.  She needed to determine Caspar’s intentions and for that she would require Varric’s presence.  Though perhaps the threat of him would be enough.  

“Of course, Varric and I welcome any invitation.”  If this backfired Varric would be less than pleased with her, but then again at least should would not have to endure another meal with Caspar alone.

The Prince’s mouth had twitched almost imperceptibly at the mention of Varric’s name, she would have missed it had she not been looking for something of the sort.  Covering it up with a brilliant smile Caspar responded, “I look forward to it.”

\----

It was much earlier in the evening when she returned to Varric’s room than the night before.  She had spent the remainder of the day in the forge seeing to her correspondence.  There hadn’t been that much to do however, as she had been so attentive to her work yesterday.  She was secretly glad though, for the early night, it was a rare occurrence.  If she was lucky she might be able to read a few more chapters of Dorian’s book.

Cassandra pushed the heavy door to Varric’s room open.  To her surprise Varric was already there, writing intently at his desk.  She did not know his routine well, but she had always assumed that Varric spent the majority of his time in the Great Hall or at the Herald’s Rest.  Was this normal?  Did he usually spend his evenings in his quarters?  Was she intruding?  Cassandra hesitated slightly before closing the door behind her.  It’s not like she had anywhere else she could go.

Varric hadn’t looked up from his writing, or acknowledged her presence in any way and so she was resolved not to disturb him from his work.  As quietly as she could, Cassandra moved around the room unbuckling her breastplate and removing her gloves.  Grabbing her book from the bedside table she sank into one of the chairs before the fireplace.  It was not so cold just yet that she required a fire to be lit, although it would have been nice.  She pondered over grabbing a blanket from the bed before she started reading but she was already comfortable and getting up again seemed like a monumental task now.  With a contented sigh, she settled in and began reading. 

\----

Cassandra jerked awake, and her book tumbled off her lap and onto the floor.

“Sorry.  Didn’t mean to wake you,” Varric grumbled from behind her.  She leaned forward and looked around the back of the chair.  Varric was still at his desk, but was now hunched over picking a particularly solid volume off the floor.  He must have dropped it, or knocked it off his desk, either way its impact with the floor must have been what woke her.

“No need to apologize, I did not mean to fall asleep.”  Cassandra wiped a bit of drool off the corner of her mouth and began to worry about how her unintentional nap would affect her sleep later that night.  

It had still been light out when she had returned to Varric’s room, but the sun had set while she slept.  Varric had lit the lantern on his desk, but the rest of the room was shrouded in shadow.  Cassandra stretched her legs out in front of her, they prickled sharply as the blood rushed back into them.  She should light a few more candles.  But that would require getting up, and she would much prefer to stay motionless for a little while longer.  

Cassandra leaned forward in the chair again to look at Varric, he was still writing.  Would it be prying to ask what?  It was unlikely a new book, and most certainly not a new chapter of  _ Swords & Shields _ as much as she would like it.  The newest chapter had ended on another cliff-hanger, but she had gotten the impression that Varric would sooner shave his chest hair than write another.  The gift, or whatever it was, had been a onetime deal.  It’s not like she could ever ask him to write another now, now that she would likely be forever in his debt.  Still, she couldn’t help but be curious about what was taking up so much of his attention. 

“What are you writing?”  She tried to keep her voice light, to not sound too demanding as she had been told she often did.

Varric heaved a heavy sigh, and she watched as his upper body condensed on itself.  “Seeker, why don’t you mind your own business for once.”

Cassandra was taken aback at his brusqueness.  She hadn’t meant to pry, he was not required to answer her.  But his demeanour, the bluntness of his response was she believed, uncalled for.  “If you did not want to answer, you merely had to say so.”  She did not temper the discontent in her voice.  Maker she thought they were passed this, this incivility.  Apparently she had been wrong.  Varric turned in his seat to face her, the scowl that marred his face stood out even against the shadows that had been created as he blocked the lantern with his figure.  

“And when I say no, what then?  Are you going to take a swing at me?  Force me halfway across the world again?” Varric’s voice raised with each statement.  “Maker you just don’t let up do you?  I’ve already given you my future, what more do you want from me?”  

His words rang in her ears, and she felt as if a blisteringly hot sword had just slashed through her gut.  She had certainly seen him angry before, she was the cause of his ire more often than not.  But Varric rarely raised his voice.  She had always thought that he got some sort of twisted satisfaction in tearing a person down stone by stone, layer by layer in a calm and collected manner.  This rage though, it was not like him.  Like herself yes, but not like him.  He was shaking.  Almost imperceptibly, but she could see it in the illumination of the lantern behind him.  If this was him restraining himself, then she did not want to see what else he was harbouring inside. 

Cassandra forced the air that had caught in her throat out through her nostrils.  He was waiting for her to say something, or do something more likely.  Waiting for her to give him an excuse and plunge headfirst off the dangerous precipice they were teetering on.  She could let him.  If anyone could take his wrath, if anyone deserved his fury it was her.  She  _ had _ taken everything from him, the least she could do was let him unleash upon her.  But this could be it as well, their limit.  A line that once crossed they could never come back from.  They had come close before with Hawke.  She was not sure any amount of time or space, something neither of them had at the moment anyway would be enough if this went too far.  

_ What more do you want from me?  _

Andraste forgive her for being selfish, but she needed him.  She could not afford to give him what he wanted.

With stiff determination Cassandra rose from her chair.  Head straight, chin raised, teeth grinding, she left the room and let the door slam behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunnnnn, will our heroes survive? Can Cassandra and Varric overcome their animosity? Tune in next week, same bat-time, same bat-channel.


	7. Chapter 7

Stubbornness and determination propelled Cassandra through the fortress and out into the yard.  It was empty except for those on duty, it must be later than she had thought she realized ruefully.  The wind carried the chattering and bustle from the Herald’s Rest.  An inviting sound if she weren’t actively looking to avoid people at the moment.  A sudden sharp gust of wind whipped around, chilling her to the core, she was sorely underdressed to be outside at the moment.  Cassandra ducked her head against the wind and headed for the forge, a place that she would likely always consider hers regardless of where she slept. 

She cracked open the door, it was pitch black inside except for a few pockets of smoldering ashes in the hearth.  Cassandra groped in the dark for a lantern or a taper but found nothing.  She used to keep a supply near the door for just such occasions, but apparently she had been lax in her duties.  It was of little inconvenience she had made the journey upstairs in the dark numerous times before, and her shins sported the bruises to prove it. 

Crossing the landing Cassandra pulled a chair into the moonlight shining through the window and sat down, letting her head fall into her hands.  Maker’s breath, everything was falling apart.  She didn’t regret leaving Varric in his room, she couldn’t imagine a world in which there was anything she could have said or done that would have de-escalated the situation.  No.  Better to give Varric room to breathe.  

But now what?  She would need to face him that was without question.  If they were to continue on they would not be able to leave this lingering between them.  With their track record civil discourse would likely be a fool’s errand, but surely there was a middle ground they could find.  Somewhere between stilted conversation and brutal physicality. 

What a mess she had created.  Had she not told herself to make more of an effort with Varric?  And not just for the sake of this whole charade.  Of course he felt this way, Varric was not some child’s toy to be played with, yet she had been using him with little regard to his well being.  His words had stung, but they were the truth and she could not deny that.  

Cassandra kicked the wall in frustration.  It should never have gotten this far.  This whole affair should never have happened in the first place, she should have…what?  Married Caspar?   _ Ugh. _  Cassandra lifted her head from her hands and let it fall back against the wall behind her.  Caspar had said the whole thing had been a big misunderstanding, maybe it was time she told him the truth.  Let Varric have his life back and deal with the consequences herself,  _ alone.   _

Resolved, Cassandra decided to talk with Josephine and Leliana about it in the morning.  And she would talk with Varric…whenever she happened to see him next.  Cassandra closed her eyes against the moonlight and curled in upon herself in the hard wood chair.  It was dreadfully uncomfortable, a feeling she was becoming closely acquainted with.  She wouldn’t sleep, her mind was still running and her blood was pumping fiercely in her veins, but she could at least try to ease some of the tension within her.  

\---- 

Cassandra watched as the moon arced gracefully in the night sky, mentally calculating the number of hours until sunrise.  Dawn was ages away yet.  She considered moving to the floor, even without a bedroll it would likely be more comfortable than the chair she was currently sat in.  Her body ached in protest of its scrunched positioning, she would have knots and kinks all over come morning.  Worse, she was cold.  Soreness, achiness, cuts and bruises she could manage, she could weather with aplomb but being cold was beyond reason.  

Cupping her hands she breathed into them and rubbed them furiously together.  Every few minutes she repeated the action trying to force the blood flow back into her fingers, and every time she did she was brought face to face with her wedding ring.  The gold gleamed in the moonlight, practically glowed in the darkness surrounding it.  Like a moth to a flame her eyes were drawn to it.  She fingered it with her thumb, the metal was deadly cold a mocking judgement on the state of her marriage.  It was taking all of her willpower not to chuck the offending object into the darkness.  But she would only regret it come morning.  Instead she shoved her hands underneath her thighs, she could feel the ring cutting into her leg but at least she wouldn’t have to look at it.  

“Knock, knock.”

Cassandra nearly fell out of her chair at the unexpected break in the silence.  She hadn’t heard anyone enter the forge, nor make their way up the stairs.   _ Damn rogues _ .

“Shit, sorry.  Didn’t mean to scare you.”  Varric stepped out of the darkness of the stairwell his hands raised in resignation.   He stopped short of the moonlight casting across the floor, standing just at the edge.  Cassandra watched him cross the room, her heart rate had suddenly ticked up and not just from the shock of being nearly scared to death.  She could barely make out his face in the darkness.  They seemed to be developing a pattern, or maybe a bad habit.  Only ever talking to each other in the dead of night, but then again it had worked well for them so far.  Cassandra waited for Varric to speak first, hesitant to say anything before she understood why exactly he was here.  Why he had sought her out.

Varric cleared his throat, then scratched the back of his neck.

“Look Seeker…I came to apologize.”  The tension in her chest released slightly at his words.  “I—I shouldn’t have said the things that I said.  I didn’t mean it—” Cassandra raised an eyebrow at his comment, not even sure if he could see it.  “Well, I didn’t mean  _ all _ of it…it came out worse than I meant it to.  I’m…I’m not mad at you Seeker I’m just…I don’t know…” his voice faltered, and petered out.  It was not like Varric to be the one stuck searching for words.  “…Frustrated and stressed I guess.  Not that that’s an excuse for my behaviour.”  Of all the scenarios that she had played out in her head while she sat miserable in her chair, this had not been one of them.  In all of them it had been her who had slunk back to Varric, it had been her to make apologies.  

“Varric,” she responded slowly as if asking permission to speak.  “Thank you for your apology but it is unnecessary, it is I who should be apologizing.  I have asked too much of you, I have taken even more without asking.”  She desperately hoped that her sincerity came across.

“Seeker.”  Varric made to stop her, but she continued on determined to say everything that she wanted— _ needed _ to say.

“I placed this burden upon you and it was never yours to bear.”  

“Seeker,” he called again, more insistently this time.

“I will talk with Caspar tomorrow.  I will tell him the truth and you can have your life back.”  

“Cassandra!”  She could tell that he was trying not to yell, her name split into awkward syllables in his attempt to bring his volume down.  “I appreciate the understanding but you don’t need to fall on your sword okay?  I’m not gonna toss you to the wolves…the dragons?”—Varric shook his head—“Either way, telling Caspar the truth is crazy talk.  We will get through this together, and if I get overwhelmed again I’ll let you know  _ before _ I try to bite your head off.  Deal?”  Cassandra was confounded at his words.  Had Varric always been this reasonable, this level-headed, this…forgiving?

“Are you sure?  Would you not just rather yell at me then have your life back?”  A solid offer in her opinion.  Varric chuckled softly and shuffled into the light, hands in his coat pockets.  He found her eyes in the dim light and she was amazed to find the same sense of relief that has been building up within her mirrored in his face.  This had gone far better than she could have ever imagined, everyone’s limbs were still attached, no weapons had been drawn, it was practically a miracle.

“I know it’s not supposed to be more than a piece of paper, but I made a promise— _ we _ made a promise to look out for one another, and I think we should stand by it.”  Cassandra had to look away, afraid that Varric might somehow see the tempest brewing within her.  It was as if she was seeing him for the very first time.  She knew Varric as a liar, a thief, and a cheat.  Not this man in front of her, this honourable and selfless man.  Could she truly have been so very wrong about him all this time?  “I mean, unless you’ve changed your mind and you  _ want _ to marry his Princeliness.”  Varric turned slightly, as if to leave.

“No!”  Cassandra was out of her chair like a dart, arm outstretched to stop him.  Varric laughed at her eagerness, he had never intended to leave she realized.  She pulled her arm back to her side quickly and ducked her head from his gaze, embarrassed at her outburst. 

“Through hardships and happiness?”  Varric extended his hand towards her.  

This was it, all she had to do was take his hand and they would continue on as husband and wife until everything could be resolved.  He had come to her, he was offering her her own salvation freely, no matter the cost to himself.  It was making her feel horribly guilty.  

“I don’t want to use you Varric.”  She had to be certain that he was okay with this, regardless of what she wanted.  She would not take advantage of him, not anymore. 

“You think I’d let you?”  Varric gave her an encouraging look and wiggled his fingers. 

Cassandra took a shallow breath before responding, “Through burdens and blessings.”  Her voice sounded neither resolved nor determined like she had hoped, but tentative as she truly felt.  Placing her trust and faith in a man she apparently did not know at all, Cassandra reached out and took Varric’s hand solidifying their agreement. 

“Fuck!”  Varric dropped her hand almost as soon as they touched.  “Your hand is freezing.”

“Not everyone is their own personal furnace Varric.”  Cassandra rolled her eyes, but was secretly glad to see a more familiar side of Varric once again.  

“Well then it’s a good thing what’s yours is mine and mine is yours then isn’t it?”  Before she could even think to stop him Varric had gathered both of her hands in his and had begun rubbing them together roughly.  “Are you always this cold?”  His hot breath caressed her fingertips that peeked out of the top of his expansive grip, sending a jolt of warmth straight through her and down to her toes.  This was certainly not the time, she chastised herself, quashing the fluttering in her stomach that had risen in earnest at Varric’s touch. 

“No, not this cold usually.  But in general, yes.”  She thought it best not to mention that this particular case was because she had left her gloves and any other practical clothing behind in her rush to escape from their encounter earlier in the evening.

“So I don’t actually make your blood boil?  I’ll admit I’m a little disappointed.”  Varric wore a devious grin, sly and teasing and for once it didn’t seem like a challenge or an attack on her person.  

“Varric if arguing kept me warm, I would never leave your side.”

“Well we’ll just have to think of some other way to keep you warm then won’t we?” Varric said with a wink.

It surely wasn’t what he had meant but all at once sordid images of Varric and herself entwined together flashed through her mind.  The rough feel of his calloused hands travelling over her body, the wet heat of his breath whispering across her skin.  She was acutely aware of just how close they were standing to one another, her hands effectively trapped in his.  She would only need to lean down slightly to—Maker’s breath, what was she thinking!  Cassandra tugged her hands eager to break contact with Varric, and put some much needed distance between them.  Varric dropped her hands at her insistence and she turned into the shadow of the room hoping the darkness would conceal the flush creeping up her chest and into her face.  This was getting ridiculous, she was not some keening youth controlled by their urges.

“You ready to head back?”  Varric was eyeing her curiously, her actions undoubtedly seemed abrupt and strange.  She nodded in ascent and headed for the stairs.  Varric descended in front of her with ease, and was quickly swallowed up into the night.  By the time she had made it to the ground floor of the forge, Varric was already waiting outside for her.  The door stood open leaving a guiding trail of light across the floor.

Cassandra closed the door behind her once she had passed through.  Immediately she was struck with an icy blast of wind.  The temperature had dropped dramatically while they had been inside, there would likely be snow on the ground come morning.  In a rather spectacular turn of events, she was actually grateful for the chilly temperature.  Hopefully it would quell the sudden and unwanted prickling heat emanating from within her and racing across her skin.

\----

Cassandra yawned deeply, and let her book fall to her chest.  She had not been tired when they had returned back to the castle, but the warmth of the room and comfort of the bed quickly pulled the remaining anxiety and tension from her mind and body, readying her for slumber.  Varric sat propped up against the headboard next to her, shuffling through a stack of papers and making careful and tidy scribbles along the margins.

Their journey back to the castle had been made in comfortable silence.  They had seen no living souls except for the guards on duty, who had acknowledged their presence with stiff nods as they passed their stations.  The castle was a completely different entity at night.  Pockets of activity could be found if they were sought out, but very few people kept such late hours.  The halls and corridors which were normally bustling with the sounds of activity were eerily quiet.  She had been overly aware of the sound of her own footsteps as they passed through the otherwise silent halls.  Varric of course moved without noise, a talent he had surely practiced and one that she envied greatly.  She had never taken the time to learn to move with the grace and concentration necessary to stay silent, wearing armour negated the concept entirely so what was the point.  It made her feel clumsy and ungainly in his presence, but why should that bother her? 

Cassandra sighed, her concentration was slipping.  She had read the same passage three times now and still couldn’t recall what it had been about.  She yearned for the clarity of thought and feeling that she had had that morning, although it seemed ages ago now.  Maybe another trip to the chapel was in order.  She would need to awaken earlier though if she did not want to disrupt her routine again.  Regardless, it was obvious that she needed sleep, Cassandra slotted her marker between the pages and closed the book.

“Do you want me to put out the light?”

Cassandra shook her head.  “It won’t bother me.”  Varric held his hand out for her book, to place it on the table beside him.  She offered it to him with a nod of thanks.  Taking it from her hand he glanced at the cover and quirked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if I should be grateful or offended that this isn’t one of mine.”

“Dorian lent it to me, said I should experience  _ real _ literature.”  Varric scoffed at her comment and set the book down on the bedside table.

“Anymore comments like that and I’m making him bald in my next book.”  

Cassandra smiled to herself, so he  _ was _ writing another book.  She wouldn’t ask about what though, not after the events of that evening but Maker take her she wanted to.  Instead Cassandra readjusted the blankets around her, covering herself up to her chin, and closed her eyes.  A minute or so passed before Varric spoke up from above her.

“I wasn’t testing you Seeker, you can ask if you want to.”  Cassandra cracked one eye open, Varric was looking at her expectantly.  Well he had given her permission.  Cassandra opened her other eye and quickly pushed down the blankets so that she could turn onto her side and face Varric, propping her head up on her hand.

“You are writing another book?”  Varric set his papers down in his lap, grinning at her sudden turnaround. 

“Yep.”

“About?”

“The Inquisition.”

“Truly?”  Cassandra tried to hide her excitement.  A book.  Written by Varric.  About the Inquisition!  Who would be in it?  Would they all be in it?  Would  _ she  _ be in it?

“Someone’s got to document it.  And I’m certainly not gonna let some  _ hack _ butcher it until the whole thing’s unrecognizable.”

“When will it be ready?”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up just yet Seeker.  We sorta need to win this thing before I can finish it.  I don’t think readers would appreciate ‘and they all just sat around waiting for Corypheus to make his next move’ as an ending.  And if we lose, well...not finishing the book is gonna be the least of my problems.”  He had a point.  “Don’t even think about asking for a sneak peak.”

Cassandra’s shoulders slumped a bit in disappointment.  “You aren’t working on anything else?”

“Ehh, little things here and there but no, nothing at the moment.  The Inquisition”—he gestured to the papers in his lap—“keeps me pretty busy.”  

“Is that what you were working on earlier?”  Varric grimaced slightly.  She could have kicked herself, why had she brought that up?  

“No, that was...that was about Bartrand.”  His tone had darkened considerably, and the ease with which he normally held himself was replaced with a stiffness across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry Varric, I should not have asked.  You needn’t explain.”  She knew  _ of _ Bartrand, in that he existed and was Varric’s older brother, but she didn’t know much else about him.  

“No it’s okay, Bartrand he’s...sick—has been sick for awhile now, but he’s getting worse.”

“Do you need to go?”  Cassandra pulled herself up into a sitting position next to Varric.

“I doubt that would help,” he said with a shake of his head.  “We don’t...get on, I’ve always been too much of a surfacer for him.”  Varric breathed deeply then expelled the air in one long breath.  “I’m not sure he’d even recognize me anyway.”  

“If you change your mind, or”—Cassandra laid a hand on Varric’s forearm—“if you require anything at all, you need only ask.”  Giving comfort and care did not come naturally to her, but she would be remiss to ignore Varric’s feelings.  She hoped her action did not seem hollow or insincere. 

Varric covered her hand with his and gave her a forced smile.  They sat together in silence, the stillness of the night only punctuated by an occasional rattling of the window in its frame in protest against the rising winds outside. 

“Nothing like family eh?”—Varric let go of her hand with a pat, and she retracted hers—“What about you Seeker, any brothers or sisters?”  She had hoped that this question would not arise, but as Varric had been so open with her it would be hypocritical for her not to do the same.

“...A brother, Anthony.”  Cassandra shifted and placed her back to the headboard, if only so that Varric could not look upon her so freely.  His question had been asked innocently enough, how was he to know the truth of the matter?  “He died when I was still very young.”

“Shit Seeker, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Varric it is alright, you did not know.”  She gave him a weak smile, not unsimilar to the one that he had given her.

“Can I ask how?”

Cassandra nodded slowly.  “He was killed by blood mages.” Uninterested in seeing Varric’s reaction, she traced the pattern of the blanket with her finger.  She’d seen it all before, sympathy, pity, unease it gave her no peace of mind to see it relived over and over again in the faces of others.  

“Fuck.”  She almost laughed, a truly honest response from Varric of all people.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Varric’s hand move across the blanket towards her own, it hovered just on the edge of her vision before being pulled back.  She was not the only one uneasy with giving comfort it would seem.  Spurred by his intent however, she continued.  

“He was my life, even before our parents deaths.  His death...it is what pushed me into service.  I wanted to be a Templar.   I was obsessed with the idea of avenging his death, but I was sent to the Seekers instead.”  How different would her life have been if not for Anthony’s death?  They were to be dragon hunters, together.  Fulfilling the calling of their family name.  A future without the Seekers, without the Divine, without the Inquisition.  Would she have ever even met Varric?

“If you could see him again, one last time—even if he wasn’t what you remembered, would you?”  His question surprised her, but she understood his meaning, could understand the parallels that he might draw between their respective relationships. 

“In an instant.”  It may not have been the answer that he wanted to hear, but it was the truth.  She would have done anything to see Anthony again.  Varric responded with a thoughtful nod, but there was a still a touch of grief in his expression.  It resounded deep within in her, and once again she longed for those skills which she lacked.  

Varric gathered the papers in his lap together, clearly intent on continuing his work rather than their conversation.  Thankful for the reprieve Cassandra settled herself into the bed again.

“Goodnight Varric,” she said before turning her back to him and the light.

“Night Seeker.”  The sound of papers rustling and the occasional scratch of quill on paper carried her into sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What I wouldn't give to have Varric as my own personal furnace during these long, cold, Canadian winters.


	8. Chapter 8

Cassandra balanced herself against a low stone wall and attempted to scrape off some of the many layers of mud caked to her boots.  The training grounds were a mess.  Though winter had almost completely taken hold at Skyhold the temperature had not dropped near enough to freeze the ground solid.  The ever expanding amount of foot traffic mixed with each new snowfall had degraded the terrain to something more suited for raising livestock.  Cullen insisted that it was good practice for their soldiers, more _realistic_ he maintained.  Admittedly, he had a point but that didn’t make it any less frustrating to clean up after.  Cassandra kicked against the wall in an attempt to break apart the sections of mud that had already begun to freeze against the leather of her boot.  Better to divest of it now while she could rather than wait for it to slough off on its own later.

 It had barely been three weeks of winter yet she was already impatient to see it gone.  Three weeks since Caspar and his troupe of Nevarrans had descended upon Skyhold.  Three weeks since Cassandra’s life had begun to resemble something out of one of Varric’s books.  A descriptor which had drawn much ire from the author himself and sent him on a spiraling tirade about the state of fiction writing in Thedas that she was not eager to repeat.  Their reconciliation in the forge had seemed to shift something in their relationship.  They were certainly still getting on one another’s nerves, however with a far greater infrequency than they were used to.  Where their spats and arguments before had always seemed charged and threatening, whatever issues that arose now no longer seemed so very grave.  They had eased into a routine that so readily suited both of them that Cassandra found herself actually enjoying Varric’s company more and more regularly.  Not that she was willing to admit that to anyone.

 These days, Cassandra awoke each morning to an empty room and a fire blazing in the hearth.  An ideal way to start the day in her opinion.  Varric seemed to have grappled onto her personal battle against the cold with a far greater urgency to defeat it than she had ever had.  Although he had tried to pass off the daily fires as the work of the attendants in the castle she knew better.  Just as she knew that the extra blankets which had started piling up on her side of bed were not because Josephine had recently ordered too many for the new recruits.  Or how the steaming pitchers of hot tea that had begun creeping into their room at night were not merely because Varric was trying to learn to like the “plant water” as he called it, at the Inquisitor’s behest.  As Varric so vehemently denied his involvement with these regular occurrences, Cassandra had found it frustratingly difficult to express her gratitude.  Which was how, in an attempt to simply reciprocate his attentive nature, lunching together had inadvertently become a part of their routine as well.

 It had been an innocent gesture, sending food to him in the hall in an attempt to see that he ate regularly.  It was something she often forgot to do herself in the run of a day.  Varric so rarely left his position by the fireside, and as he was apparently banned from entering the kitchens she had thought it both useful and an adequate display of her appreciation of his efforts.  However, she had somehow managed to cross paths with Varric as the food had been delivered and he had instantly seen through her thinly veiled anonymous gesture.  It had been truly hypocritical of him in her opinion, forcing her to take credit for her actions when he would not.  Then insisting that she stay and partake of it as well, undercutting the sentiment entirely.  But in the end he had thanked her and left her with an open invitation to “do it again sometime.”  Whether he had been sincere or not, “sometime” had become the next day, and the next until their lunches were done by rote.  Some days Varric would continue to work while they ate, and their conversation was minimal but companionable.  Other days, when there was time and Varric seemed in a more jovial mood they would play Wicked Grace.  Well, Varric would play and she would attempt some farcical attempt at it.  He insisted she was getting better, though she suspected he was only placating her in attempt to lessen her frustration with the game.  Most days however, they would just talk.  

 Somewhere along the way they had managed to find the rhythm that their conversations had so noticeably lacked before.  Conversing seemed so natural now, she found that Varric could draw out of her a fluency with language that she had previously thought herself incapable of.  He held no expectation of her, he waited patiently when she could not find the words.  He teased her in good-nature, finding and testing her limits.  Were it not for the strict passage of time seen in the fortress around them, the shifts of the soldiers, the movements of messenger birds, she was certain an entire afternoon could slip by unnoticed.  Varric had always been a talented orator, but evidently he could make even the most mundane topics seem interesting just by virtue of his voice.  At her insistence they talked often about the work that he was doing for the Inquisition as well as all he was doing to aid Kirkwall.  Though he initially protested, declaring it “about as interesting as Solas’s lectures on the Fade,” he eventually conceded.  In turn he frequently asked about her own work.  Though she rarely had much to report on beyond how the recruits were shaping up Varric listened seemingly engrossed regardless.  Those days were her favorite.  

 With all the time they were spending with each other, Cassandra had begun to pick up on little things about Varric that she had never noticed before.  Behind his bravado, and his easy demeanour Varric was deeply considerate of others and widely generous with both his time and himself.  She had first noticed it of course with his thoughtfulness regarding her owns needs but she quickly realized that Varric’s conscientiousness was almost a second nature for him even if he would not acknowledge it himself.  He had brushed off her comments about the extent of his involvement in the restoration of Kirkwall.  Obligation, he had called it, nothing more.  When questioned about why he was spending time with Cole, he maintained that if anything he was a bad influence on the Kid.  But a necessary one he had insisted, if only to counterbalance Solas’s teachings.  There was always an excuse or a flippant comment, but his actions betrayed his words.  Long hours writing letters by candlelight, afternoons spent in the company of their resident spirit, with every blanket, every mug of tea Varric revealed more and more of himself to her, and she was eager to see it.

 Although she was grateful for the change in her relationship with Varric that the last few weeks had cultivated, Cassandra was still acutely aware of their predicament.  With every passing day her hope for a speedy resolution sunk further and further into the churning pit that was her internal anxiety.  Either Josephine or Leliana would carry an update to them each day, but they had yet to have anything positive to say.  If only Caspar and his meddling, and increasingly unsubtle band of associates would just leave!  Their Nevarran shadows were becoming more persistent.  In the beginning they had merely lurked about, in common spaces where it could be brushed off as coincidental.  But these days she would catch a flash of sullen black and grey out the corner of her eye more often than not.  At the training grounds, in the Chantry, she had even thought she saw one leaving the forge one afternoon.  Varric had noticed it as well, though he was quicker to dismiss it than her.  Whatever Caspar was trying to do, he no longer seemed to care whether or not they were aware of it.

 Since their lunch in the garden she had been trying to decipher the Prince’s intentions towards her, but she had had little success.  Had she merely been allowed to ply her trade she would have had her answers by now, but Josephine had refused the idea point blank.   She’d held the support of both Leliana and Varric in the matter but the Ambassador it seemed would not be swayed.  Though Cassandra maintained that surely the interrogation of just _one_ of Caspar’s men would not cause an international incident.  Especially when it seemed that Varric was trying his very best to incite the Prince and his peoples all on his own.  Caspar had called her bluff in the garden and he no longer sought her out individually.  Invitations now came addressed to both herself and Varric.  She had been right on that account at least, Varric was less than pleased to be included in her plans.  He took each new invitation as an excuse to be deliberately aggravating.  As much as she worried for Varric’s personal safety over the matter, it did make for far more interesting dinner conversation.  And she would be lying to herself if she did not admit to taking some satisfaction in his acts of defiance.

 Cassandra allowed herself a brief smile at the thought as she pushed herself off the wall and made her way through the yard.  There was already a few fingers of snow covering the ground, and she could tell by the greyness of the sky, and change in the air that more was on the way.  It only spurred her eagerness to retreat into the warm confines of the keep.  Despite the slick layer of new snow and the stubborn mud still on her heels, she daringly took the steps to the hall two at a time.  Cassandra hefted the doors open with perhaps a bit too much force, their hinges creaking in protest.  Before they could even close fully behind her, she was already making her way to the fire, and Varric’s side.  As she rounded the table to stand closer to the source of heat Varric held out a mug for her to take without looking up from his paperwork on the table.  Even through her gloves she could feel its warmth, a strong scent of spices wafted up out of the cup.  Mulled wine, a welcome surprise.  She took a long drink, savoring the sensation of the hot liquid travelling through her as the roaring fire did its equal work in dispelling the chill that had quickly set into her body post-training.  

 Varric continued to write hurriedly despite her arrival, it would seem that today was one of those days where Varric was too busy to take lunch as it were.  Cassandra’s mood dipped slightly despite the literal warm welcome.  

 As if sensing her apprehension Varric turned from his work and gave her a wink.  “Just give me a moment Seeker, gotta finish a few things but then we are playing some Wicked Grace.  Today is the day you beat me, I can feel it.”  A grin pulled at her lips, her mood renewed by Varric’s assurances.

 “Ahh, is that what the wine is for.  I do not believe my inebriation will help my ability.”  Sufficiently warmed up, Cassandra took the chair next to Varric keeping her back to the fire.

 “Well it certainly can’t hurt.”  She rolled her eyes at his comment, but took another sip of her wine.  Enjoying the headiness that was beginning to creep through the back of her head.  Cassandra picked at the food that was already on the table, and tried to remember whether a pair of songs or daggers was worth more as Varric continued writing.  She was halfway through her glass before he began to move his papers and writing supplies to the far side of the table, revealing a deck of cards underneath it all.  He rapidly shuffled the cards before dealing them out.  Cassandra gathered her cards off the table and made a feeble attempt to sort them into something resembling a coherent hand.

 “How’s Francis doing?  Still tripping over his own sword?”  Varric had already laid his cards back down on the table, needing only a cursory glance to know his first move.

 “Thankfully no, though he has graduated to tripping over others.  An improvement nonetheless.”  For a man admittedly in love with the sound of his own voice Varric was a remarkably adept listener with an almost frightening ability for remembering detail, apparently no matter how inane.  When had she last mentioned that recruit, it could not have been more than a passing comment on his skill or lack thereof?  “You are too observant for you own good Varric.  Do you remember every word that is said, or do you keep notes for moments such as these?”  She was stalling, every time they played it was as if it was the first time.  No matter how hard she tried she could barely remember the most basic rules.

 “Isn’t it kinda your job to be observant?”

 “You are thinking of Leliana.  I merely gather the information from those that already know it.”  

 Varric snorted.  “Gather’s not the word I’d use, Seeker.  But to answer your question, it’s all up here.”  Varric gestured at his head, then reached for the food on the table, still waiting for her to make her move.

 “And is it a practiced skill or have you always been so perceptive?”

 “Tough to say.  As a storyteller I live in the details.  So I make it my practice to observe others, the way they walk, talk, dress, you name it—call it research.  But on the other hand it’s always been easier to observe others when they don’t take notice of you.  So I guess you could call it a natural ability, in that I exploit something that is afforded me by the nature of my being a dwarf.”  There was a heaviness to Varric’s tone.  Not bitterness or anger though.  Resignation maybe, as if the matter was something he had long since come to terms with despite his disapproval.  

 “I find it difficult to believe that people do not notice you Varric.”

 “And I find it difficult to believe that with all this talk of my apparently keen observational skills that you thought I wouldn’t notice that you’re stalling.”  He grinned a her.  “Play Seeker.”

 

\----

 

Varric had been wrong, the wine had not helped.  Although the game was more enjoyable than usual, what little grasp she had on the rules had slipped through her fingers almost as easily as the cards moved through Varric’s.  If he was cheating, she could not tell, one card after another danced across his hands as he waited for her to take her turn.  The idle motion was distracting, as was the errant thought of what _else_ his deft fingers could accomplish.  Cassandra nearly rolled her eyes at the stray thought.  

 Despite frequent visits to the Chantry, and hours spent in silent meditation she had still not been able to quell the bothersome thoughts regarding Varric.  If anything they were happening more frequently.  On one particularly disturbing occasion she had woken up in the middle of the night from a dream that was nearly too obscene for even one of her books only to find herself pressed against Varric’s sleeping form.  Had he been awake she would have died of mortification.  As it seemed that she was unable to dispel the thoughts and images, she was left with only one recourse, to ignore them.  It was working adequately enough, though at this moment in particular she could have done with something to alleviate the heat pooling in her belly.

 As if Andraste herself had heard her, the doors to the Great Hall opened, letting in a swift and icy blast of air that flickered the torches on the wall and sent those nearer to the entrance huddling further into the room.  The Inquisitor stepped into the hall and let the doors slam shut behind her with a clang that echoed across the stone.  Cassandra watched as Evelyn shook out her cloak, spattering snow across the ground before making a path towards their table.

 The Inquisitor laid an arm on the chair across from Cassandra.  Her cheeks were bright from the harsh winds outside, and there was still fresh snow in her hair.  “Cassandra, just who I was looking for.”  Varric gave an exaggerated cough, and Evelyn’s attention shifted to the dwarf.  “And Varric, always a delight,” she added while slapping a hand on his shoulder.  Varric beamed up at her.  “But not why I’m here I’m afraid.  Cassandra my dear, I require your assistance post haste.”

 “What do you need?” Cassandra replied setting her cards down on the table.

 “Well apparently there’s a pocket of bandits just a few days march from here in the mountains that are wreaking havoc with our trade suppliers.  Normally I wouldn’t even bother you with something so trivial, but I figured you might like the chance to hit something that isn’t filled with straw for a change.”  Evelyn lowered her voice, “And I thought you guys might appreciate a small break from all _this_.”  Evelyn waved her hands between the two of them before apparently thinking better of the motion and returning her hands to her sides.

 Cassandra felt a bit torn, although the prospect of a good fight was appealing, a trek into the mountains in this weather was not an experience she longed for.  Her mind flickered to Varric’s room, the warmth of their bed, the comfort it provided.  A stark contrast from the bedroll on frozen earth that she could expect.  Evelyn and Varric looked at her expectantly, and she scoffed at herself internally.  How complacent she had become in such a short time.  She was a warrior, and duty called, regardless of what she wanted.

 “When do we leave?”  Evelyn cracked a smile at her response, but Varric’s expression held something darker, if only for a moment.  Was she imagining things or did Varric seem upset?

 “As soon as possible.  Bull and Cole are meeting us at the front gate when you’re ready.”

 “Then I will get my things.”  Cassandra pushed her chair back and made her way around the table.  As she passed Varric she leaned down to place a quick kiss to his cheek, which was already turned in anticipation of the action as had become their custom.  “Stay safe,” he murmured into her ear.  She caught his eye as she pulled back and there was a sobering earnestness behind them that made her linger at his side a little longer than was normal or necessary.  Wrenching her eyes from his Cassandra continued around the table to the Inquisitors side, careful to avoid the water that was pooling around her on the floor.  Evelyn was giving her an odd look, questioning, worried even.  “Inquisitor?”  Evelyn blinked rapidly, as if coming back to reality.

 “Sorry, I just...”—she shook her head—“nevermind.  See you in a few days Varric.”  She gave his shoulder another slap before leaving the table and crossing the hall.  Cassandra matched her quick strides and followed her, swerving to avoid the clumps of people milling about taking refuge from the rising storm.  

 They had nearly exited the hall completely, entering the winding hallways of the castle when a heaviness settled in Cassandra’s chest.  As if compelled by some unseen force Cassandra felt a sudden urge to look back at the spot that she had just left, at Varric.  She found his eyes easily, almost as if he had been searching for her as well.  In such a short time she had grown accustomed to his presence and now to leave him, if only for a few days, the thought left a hollowness in her stomach.  How odd that this was her reaction, should she not be rejoicing to be rid of him?  She managed a shallow nod in his general direction before hurriedly following after the Inquisitor.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in uploading!


	9. Chapter 9

Cassandra huddled into the warmth of her thick cloak.  Ice crystals had already formed along the edge of her hood where her hot breath had collected against the rough wool and mixed with the frigid atmosphere.  The wind whipped lazily around her sweeping the fresh snow into swirling clouds that danced off the hard ground.  Their party had passed through the storm that had encompassed Skyhold hours before only to be greeted with the reality of the winter months beyond its borders.  Where winter had only just set in within the walls of the fortress it had crept into the surrounding territories weeks if not months earlier.  Cassandra wondered if the ground that felt so impenetrably solid underneath her foot, had ever seen anything green at all.  Though the drifts of snow that they were currently trudging through barely reached her calves, it did nothing to assuage her distaste for the stuff.  It did mean however, that they were able to roam more freely than expected.  As such Cassandra was treated to Cole rollicking about the mountainside with no apparent care or worry for the cold weather.  Did he even feel the cold?  She would have to ask.

As per Evelyn’s plan, they would make camp at nightfall and travel further through the mountains come morning.  If all went well, they would be in the general vicinity of the bandit’s territory tomorrow afternoon, with enough time to scout out the area before making camp.  Cassandra wondered if this entire trip had been for her benefit, it was a type of mission generally left to their soldiers.  Something to give them easy experience, not something handled by the Inquisitor.  She doubted she’d get a straight answer even if she did ask, so what was the point.  She was here now, might as well enjoy it as best she could.

The snow behind her crunched under the heavy footsteps of Bull as he lumbered to her side.  His hulking form cast a shadow across the ground in front of them, giving Cassandra a brief reprieve from the glare of the late sun on the undisturbed snow in her path.  “Haven’t seen you around much lately.  Married life keeping you _busy_?”  Cassandra gave Bull a pointed look at his insinuation.  

“Dodging the Prince and his people does eat into one’s free time.”  Puffs of mist billowed from her mouth as she spoke.

“Want me to get rid of ‘em?”

“Josephine has forbade it I’m afraid,” she said with a wistful sigh.

“Well I hope you’re goin’ easy on Varric.  Poor guy was so nervous.”  Bull chuckled, startling a nearby group of birds and scattering them into the sky.  “Last time I saw him at the Herald’s Rest he kept buying people rounds, kept telling stories.  Think he would have stayed there the whole night if Cabot hadn’t kicked him out.”  Bull spoke with a tone that suggested his comments were inconsequential, but the way he eyed her made it seem that what he had said held some significance.  Like he expected a reaction from her, what reaction that was she couldn’t say.  She remembered that night, when Varric had returned late and they had talked, _really_ talked for the first time.  It was news to her though that Varric had been nervous, she hadn’t thought it possible.  What had he to be nervous about?  Plenty probably, and most to do with her.  She would have felt guilty about it, had they not seemed to already have moved passed it.

“Though I cannot speak to his state of mind, he is alive at least.  That should be enough to temper your concern.”  Bull narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side at her response.

“And what about you.  How are you holding up?”  Cassandra stifled a heavy sigh.

“As well as can be expected I suppose.  I have not caused an international incident and Varric still has all his limbs.  I would say I am exceeding expectations, wouldn’t you?”

“C’mon Cassandra you know that’s not what I meant.”  She huffed at his persistence, creating a dense cloud of condensation that rather undermined her annoyance.

“I am fine, really...It is difficult to pretend—to lie, it is not in my nature.  And to perform, for an audience that would use my weaknesses against me.  I wish it to be over—I wish it had never happened.”

“All of it?”  There was that look again, as if he expected to get a rise out of her.  But before she could even ponder what he had meant by his question, Evelyn called out to Cassandra.  With a wary look to match Bull’s entertained gaze, she left his side to meet the Inquisitor further up the pass.  

\----

The first rays of sunshine filtered into her tent and Cassandra was glad for the excuse to rise and begin the day.  She had slept deplorably.  It was normal to sleep fitfully and uncomfortably when on journeys.  Sleeping so close to the elements, protected from not only the weather but whatever may be lurking in the darkness by only a thin layer of fabric left one on edge no matter how tired they were from a day's adventures, but last night had been different.  She had tossed and turned all night, unable to find any suitable position to relax in.  With the excursion from their trek a little discomfort should not have been able to keep her from sleep, yet it had.  Through the thin padding of her bedroll every stray twig, every individual pebble and lump of soil had felt like hardened pieces of steel digging into her at every angle.   It was a far cry from the downy mattress and smooth sheets of Varric’s bed.  This was exactly why she had never had a bed sent to her own room, she had grown accustomed to a comfort that was too much a luxury and not a reality.

Cassandra pushed back her scant coverings and stretched out against the hard ground, trying to dispel the tension that had knotted into her muscles during the night.  The ground beneath her radiated cold like an icy breath, but she hoped that it as well as the frosty air not yet warmed by the rising sun would sharpen her mind against the dull ache that had formed between her eyes.  It was not just her body that was feeling the after effects of a restless night.  Images flitted through her mind, dissipating before even taking form enough to be recognizable.  Had she dreamed?  Or had she merely been plagued with the kind of hallucinations brought on by straddling the edges of consciousness?  Whatever had kept her mind racing was gone now, lost to some unreachable realm.  Evelyn mumbled in her sleep beside her, she apparently had had no trouble falling asleep it seemed.  As quietly as possible Cassandra readied herself and climbed out of their tent, leaving the Inquisitor to a few more moments of respite.

The sun reflecting off of the clean snow around their makeshift camp caused Cassandra to bring a hand to her brow, shielding her eyes against the light.  She blinked a few times to let her vision adjust, taking in their camp.  The mountain did not offer much in the way of protection, not as a forest did.  But they had managed to find a more settled and even area in their winding uphill climb.  The only thing that could have made the night worse would have been attempting to sleep on an incline.  Cassandra’s eyes traced over the remains of the fire from the night before, and the other tent before straightening fully from the entrance of her own.  She had barely managed a full step towards the fire when a figure appeared where there had not been one before.  Her gut lurched in a moment of panic before she recognized the form, and the hat, of Cole.  Had he merely appeared or had she missed him as her eyesight settled into its surroundings?  Recovering from the start he had given her, Cassandra continued on to the fireside.  “Cole,”she said in greeting while taking a seat on a rock across from him.  The fire was smoldering and there was something boiling atop it.  Surely she would have noticed that?

“Good morning Cassandra.”  Cole handed her a cup, steam rose from it in curling tendrils.  She accepted it hesitantly.  “To ease your mind.”

“I’m sorry?”  The steam smelled of something herbal, though she couldn’t place it.

“Thoughts racing.  Hard ground, soft bed.  A golden fire, all consuming.  Cold, too cold, yet too hot.  How can that be?”

“Cole—” it was warning.

“I heard you, all night.  You ache, but you don’t know why.  Why don’t you know?  I know, do you want me to tell you?”  He looked both at her and through her at the same time as if he was watching a part of herself that even she could not see.

“Cole stop.”  

“But I can help—”

“I know—I know you only want to help Cole, but...it is early and I did not sleep well—”

“Later then?”   She did not want to argue, not when he did not realize his intrusion.  She knew that Cole was only trying to do what he thought was right.  But it was unnerving, this trespass, how he could step into the mind of another, pull out their deepest thoughts and lay them bare.  Not that she ever understood a thing that he said.  Varric did, or at least he seemed to.

“He ache’s too, but he won’t say.”  She put a hand up to stop him, the knot between her eyes had started throbbing.

“Later, Cole.  Later.”  Cole nodded satisfied with her response, and wandered off through the brush.  Was it too much to hope that he would forget?  Cassandra took a tentative sip from the mug in her hand, whatever it was it was warm and that was good enough.

\----

The midday sun had begun to wane when they found the bandits.  Well, truly the bandits found them.  Had they not defeated them so soundly and quickly she would have been embarrassed at how easily they were caught unaware.  For all their efforts to get there the fight was over far too soon for her liking, especially as she had a renewed sense of frustration to work through.  Cole it seemed, was not so easily distracted as she had hoped, and had been pestering her all day.  She had nearly considered caving to his requests to talk if only to stop him from suddenly appearing at her side, she was not sure her heart could take anymore sudden jolts.  The skirmish had been a welcome reprieve, however short lived, and for the moment it seemed to have sufficiently distracted Cole.

They would continue on further into the bandits territory in a short while.  For the moment they had decided to take a break and regroup.  Bull was sorting through the bodies checking for supplies, while Cole had slipped off to she knew not where.  Cassandra had taken station against a boulder, and begun to clean the blood of her sword.  Evelyn circled the area before coming to rest at her side.

“Well that was anticlimactic.  Do you suppose there’s more of them?”  The Inquisitor slumped against the rock, not bothering to brush off the ice and snow first.

“I would consider it a strong possibility.”

“I really wanted this to be—well I suppose fun isn’t the right word...but enjoyable I guess.  I can’t imagine being cooped up in the castle with all the shit that’s going on is doing you any good.”  Evelyn frowned and leaned her upper body against her staff.  “Has this helped or have I made it worse?  Be honest.”

“The change in scenery has helped, though I could have done with a few more things to hit.”  Cassandra smiled wryly.  Evelyn gave a relieved sigh.

“Thank the Maker, the last thing I wanted was to make things worse.”  Evelyn pulled herself up by her staff and made to leave, pausing mid stride she turned back around to face Cassandra.  “Can I say Cassandra...you’re handling this better than I would have thought—I mean, better than I would have,” she finished quickly, her body tensing slightly.  “You’re alright, right?” she added quietly.

“People keep asking me that.”  Cassandra’s hand stilled on her blade, she looked at the woman before her with narrowed eyes.

“Don’t be obtuse Cassandra, we care about you is all.  And…”—Evelyn chewed on her lip, her brow furrowed—“If you ever need to talk, about _anything_ , I’m here for you.”  It was as if Evelyn had been taking direction from Bull in trying to say one thing while implying another.  She was neither as adept or effective at it.

“What is this _anything_ you are referring to, everyone seems to be talking around something that I am supposed to know, but I do not.  It is all very tedious.”  The Inquisitor looked very much like she wished she hadn’t said anything at all.

“Uh...you know…”  Evelyn shifted in her spot, looking increasingly uncomfortable.  “About Varric?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“About Varric what?”  Cassandra was deeply confused.  Had she done something to anger or offend Varric?  Would he have not said something to her if she had?  She had thought themselves on fine terms when she left.

“You know too?”  Both women jumped in shock.  Cassandra clutched at her chest, her heart was pounding beneath her fist.  Cole sat atop the boulder, cross-legged.  The sun glinted harshly off his helmet, obscuring his face.  “She knows, but she doesn’t.  I tried to tell her.”

“Know what?”  Cassandra was yelling now.  The pain in her forehead had returned, and with unspent adrenaline still coursing through her body her temper had been easily pricked.  Out of the corner of her eye she could see that Bull had stopped his searching and was now watching them from a distance.  Evelyn, now recovered from Cole’s sudden intrusion, looked ever more panicked than before.  There was a beat of silence between them as if they were all waiting for one another to make the first move.  Cole obliged.

“You l—”

“Cole no!” cried out Evelyn at the same moment.

Whatever the spirit had said was lost to the mountain air, drowned out by the Inquisitor’s cries.  It appeared that Evelyn had changed her mind even though it had been her to bring the topic, whatever that was, up.  But she would not be kept from this big secret that apparently everyone else knew.

“Tell me Cole,” she growled, but Evelyn put her hands up to stop both of them from speaking.

“Cassandra you don’t want to do this.  I shouldn’t have mentioned anything.  It wasn’t my place...”  She stared directly at Cole as she spoke next, “It’s not any of our places.  Forget we said anything, and please don’t be angry.”  Evelyn’s eyes were pleading with her now, yet she kept glancing up to Cole as well, as if trying to keep an eye on an unpredictable animal while also attempting to tame a wild beast.

Cassandra was incensed.  The audacity of it all, playing with her like some ignorant fool.  What was it that everyone knew that she did not?  Snarling she grit her teeth to keep from yelling further.  The effort forcing her hot breath out through her nostrils instead, creating large puffs of steam as it hit the cold air.  If Varric were here he would surely say she looked every part the enraged dragon he was convinced lay within her.  She felt every bit as savage and raw as one at the moment.  Would that their foes rise once more so that she could cut them down where they stood again and again.  

Her hands clenched involuntarily, and a flash of pain lanced through her hand and up her arm.  Relaxing her hand immediately, her sword dropped to the ground, denting the snow with a thud.  Fool.  In her blinding fury she had forgotten she was holding it.  A few droplets of dark blood seeped out of the gash in her glove and stained the blanket of white at her feet.

“Oh Cassandra.”  Evelyn’s soft voice carried across the silence, she sounded pained herself.  Cassandra felt deflated as every hint of her intense fury evaporated.  Whatever their intentions they had not meant to hurt her.  No, she had done that to herself.  Evelyn closed the space between them and reached for her hand.  She let her take it freely, and Evelyn carefully removed the glove to see the damage that she had so carelessly done.  “I’m sorry.”

“This is not your fault, I have only myself to blame.”  She barely even winced as Evelyn lightly prodded her palm.  The cut was shallow, her glove taking most of the blade’s sharpness.  The blood had already stopped flowing, drying quickly in the cold air against her rough skin.  Though her anger had dissipated it had not carried with it its reasoning.  “Do you not trust me with the information?”

“What?  Oh no—of course not, no that isn’t it at all.”  Evelyn sighed heavily.  “It will come to you, when I cannot say, but you will be better for it.  Figuring it out for yourself that is.”  Evelyn smiled tentatively.  “Honestly I don’t think you’d be believe me, or anyone else if we told you.”

“Not even a hint?”  Evelyn shook her head sheepishly while using some clean snow to wipe the dried blood off her hand.  Cassandra huffed in annoyance, but let Evelyn continue her ministrations.

“Let’s get you fixed up, and then we can go find something for you to hit.”

“Do you promise?”  She hadn’t meant to sound like such a petulant child, but she still rankled ever so slightly.

“If we can’t find anything I’m sure Bull will oblige.”  A low grumble wafted through air, causing Evelyn to chuckle openly and a thin smile to pull at the edges of Cassandra’s mouth.

  



	10. Chapter 10

Her eyelids were nearly frozen shut, and she could no longer feel her fingers which clutched feebly at her cloak attempting to hold it closed against the roaring winds.  For three days they had had clear weather, she had even grown mildly accustomed to the weak winds and light flurries.  But on the fourth day, as they had left their original camping spot they had run straight into a veritable tempest, which slowed their journey back to Skyhold to a near standstill.  The march back to the fortress should only have taken them half a day.  Though they had started late, a luxury after spending the previous days rooting a number of small hordes of bandits out of the mountainside, they still should have arrived back just after midday.  Midday had come and gone long ago, of that she was sure, but she could no longer tell what time it was.  The sky was a dull grey, when one could see it at all.  The sun was nowhere to be found, hidden behind heavy clouds and blankets of falling snow.  That they were close was the only thing that kept them from stopping to find shelter, it could not be more than a league now.

Though her fingers had gone numb against the cold ages ago, the cut on her hand still blazed in its rawness.  It had been joined by a handful of other scrapes and bruises in the last few days.  Mostly gained from crossing over the craggy and uneven landscape rather than their bouts with the bandits.  Evelyn had been right, there had been more of them.  Divided into small groupings they had hidden themselves away into shallow caves found up and down the mountainside.  What may have seemed like ideal spots for storing stolen goods had provided little in the way of real protection once they had found them.  Though no one single fight left her with any sense of fulfilment, as a whole she felt that they had accomplished something.  The constant source of distraction was appreciated as well.  It had helped to keep her mind off of that which otherwise would have consumed her thoughts.  She had thought long and hard on the matter yet she was still no closer to figuring out what it was that she was supposed to know.  There was very little to go off of, and even Cole had clammed up unwilling to provide her with even the most cryptic of hint.  She should let it go really, but there was a niggling feeling at the back of her mind that there was something there just out of reach.  Like a word on the tip of the tongue, when she focused on it too much it slipped further and further from her conscious mind.

Cassandra’s foot slid on something beneath the layers of snow, sending her stumbling wildly through the banks.  Before she toppled completely Cole was at her side with an arm to steady her.  She searched for his face under the brim of his hat which was weighed down with snow.  His normally ghostly complexion was red and chapped from the wind, his hair hung in frozen clumps around his face.  Though he had not complained of the weather their entire trip, he was far from adequately attired.  She would have to see that he was given proper winter wear when they returned, but for now there was little she could do.  Still, she could not leave him as he was.  Her numb fingers fumbled stiffly with the clasp at her neck.  Careful to not let her open cloak catch in the wind, she unwound the length of fabric stuffed into the top of her breastplate that she used as a makeshift scarf.  Parts of it were soaked through turning the red fabric a deep burgundy, but it was better than nothing.  She raised the material, indicating her intentions to Cole and he lowered his head, letting her wind the fabric around his neck and lower face.  She tied it in a tight knot at the base of his neck, shifting the folds to cover his ears as best she could.  Only his eyes peeked out over the top of the scarf but she could feel his smile through it.  Fastening her cloak again, they continued on.  Cole had let go of her arm, however he stayed close just at the edges of her vision.  For once a solid presence, comforting against the rapidly shifting winds.

A cry came out from in front of them, barely distinguishable from the roar of the wind.  In a few paces they were caught up to Bull and the Inquisitor.  A third figure was with them, a scout.  Thank the Maker, they were close.  Far more time had passed than she had realized.  By the time she could make out the outline of the fortress ahead of them the sun had dipped below the horizon and the first stars were beginning to blink into the night sky.  Her feet protested loudly with every step, and she could no longer feel her fingers whatsoever, but it mattered naught.  The thought of what awaited her once returned would have propelled her for hours yet.  Her stomach fluttered, and she felt almost giddy at the thought of a blazing fire and a night’s sleep sheltered from the elements.

As the heavy doors to the entrance of the fortress swung closed behind them, a collective sigh passed through the group.  The winds did not howl so powerfully here behind thick walls, but the evidence of the storm was still present.  The snow was nearly thigh high, and icicles as thick as her forearm had collected across eaves throughout.  The atmosphere here safe behind the protective walls was vastly different from that which she had spent the last day muddled in.  It seemed that the storm had only lifted the spirits of the residents of Skyhold.  Though the inclimate weather had forced everyone inside it seemed that they were making the most of it.  The din from the Herald’s Rest nearly matched that of the wind.  The sound had obviously pricked Bull’s ears as with barely a moment to catch his breath he was already headed towards the tavern.  Cole and Evelyn were just behind him.  “You coming?” she yelled.  Her words were nearly lost in all the noise, but Cassandra understood her intent.  She shook her head no, her mind set on returning to her room and all the pleasantries it held.  

The Great Hall was also packed tight with people.  The sound of their laughter and merriment hit her as solidly as the heat of the room when she passed through the doors.  They barely needed the fires that blazed in the hearths along the walls, there was hardly space for cold air to creep in they were so densely packed.  Cassandra pushed gently at the crowd, or as gently as one could when they were still in full armour.  They parted easily before her shying their silks and satins away from the rapidly melting snow and ice that was falling from her cloak and hair, and she made her way deeper into the throng.  She should have stayed to the edges of the room she realized belatedly.  There were more people and they were less willing to move the further she got into the crowd and soon she could only eek forward a step at a time.  A flurry of movement to her right caught her eye.  Where she had not been able to gain a single patch of clear space, people now parted in waves allowing a small group passage through the masses as if they were surrounded by an impenetrable barrier.  Through the crowds she could barely make out who it was but at the first sight of a shock of pitch black hair her stomach clenched. Caspar, and he was coming straight at her.  She ducked her head and tried not to be seen, she did not want to deal with him right now.

Cassandra started pushing against the people closest to her trying to make them move faster, or in most cases, at all.  She would never be able to get away from him at this rate.  Ignoring the soured faces of those she was all but elbowing out of the way, Cassandra tried furtively to put distance between herself and the Prince.  He was quickly gaining on her.  A ripple began to her left, and a sliver of cleared spaced wedged itself through the crowd.  It wasn’t nearly as large as Caspar’s, but it was moving quicker.  She heard him before she saw him.

“Dwarf on a mission!  Move—outta the way!”  She veered her course towards the sound of Varric’s voice.  With a sense of purpose and a look of determination Cassandra attempted to create her own wave through the crowd.  Noticing her stern look, people were now trying their best to get out of her way, all but tripping over themselves.  She still managed to cuff a few with her pauldrons, a shoulder here, a back there.  She might hear about it tomorrow from Josephine, if they weren’t too afraid of her to say something that was.  She ignored their muted protests and indignant huffs and searched instead for the familiar red and gold of Varric.  “Move!”  He sounded close.  Straightening to her full height, she turned on the spot trying to find him.  She found Caspar instead.  Their eyes met across the room and she stopped like a startled halla, frozen in place.  If he hadn’t been searching for her before he was now, as one the Prince and his followers shifted their movements towards her.  Cassandra backed up slightly and unsurprisingly collided with yet another person.

“Well hello to you too.”  Recognizing the voice she whipped around.  Varric was wiping a lump of melting snow off his face, he grimaced as he flicked the offending wetness onto the ground.  She had never been so happy to see him, the giddiness she had felt before had returned.

“We must go.  Quickly.”  She turned Varric around and started pushing him back the way he had come.  He threw her a questioning look over his shoulder, but let her continue her movements.  “Caspar,” she answered.  With an understanding raise of his eyebrows, Varric quickened his pace and began moving through the crowd more forcefully.  She chanced a look back trusting Varric to guide her, her hands still on his shoulders.  There were barely a handful of people between them and Caspar now, soon there would be none.  Varric barrelled through the crowds every bit as solid as a battering ram, and soon the clumps of people began to thin as they came to the edges of the hall.  He was far more dextrous than she as they wove through the thinner crowd towards the nearest door.  Weighed down by her pack and her cloak which kept catching on her legs she was noticeably slowing him down.  He could easily have left her behind, leaving her to fend for herself against the crowds, against Caspar.  But instead he took her hand guiding her more fluidly until they reached a door and narrowly escaped into the hallway beyond.

She had expected him to stop once they exited the hall, but Varric only picked up the pace.  Soon they were running through the halls, skirting pairs of figures seeking privacy and the occasional lone wanderer.  No one gave them a second glance, though they must have looked a state running like madmen.  Before she could help it a laugh had escaped her lips, then another, until she could barely stand for laughing so much.  They turned another corner and unable to continue she collapsed against the closest wall, laughing uncontrollably.  It wasn’t until her own laughter waned that she realized Varric had joined her on the floor and was laughing as well, it only managed to spur her on again.

Cassandra pulled Varric off the ground along with her once they had both calmed down, and they walked the rest of the way back to their room.  He signaled silently for her to stop before they got too close, and peaked his head around the corner.  Apparently satisfied with what he found, they continued on.

“They’ve been watching our room ever since you left.”  He offered in explanation.  “Waiting for you to get back I think...I hope.  When I heard you were back—well, I thought you might need backup.”

“I appreciate the intervention.  Though we may as well let them at it, they will be very bored.  I plan on sleeping for a week.”

“That tired?”

“I have not slept so poorly since I spent a month sharing a tent with Seeker Ramsay.  He kicked in his sleep, like a _dog_.”  With a chuckle Varric unlocked the door and motioned her in before him.  She felt all the unease and tension of the last five days vanish from her as soon as she passed over the threshold of the door.  Her own room in the forge had never felt this inviting, its sparse functionality had always seemed rather bleak upon return.  This, this comfort and warmth that extended beyond fires and blankets, this felt like coming home.  The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning, and was gone just as quickly when her eyes settled on the large copper tub sitting in front of the roaring fire.  “Oh Varric,” she sighed with no attempt to hide her delight.  Varric stopped short beside her, his eyes falling on the tub and growing large.

“That wasn’t me.”  

“I do not care, it is perfect.”  Dropping her pack and cloak unceremoniously on the floor Cassandra strode towards the tub and hurriedly shucked her gloves to allow her to run her fingers through the water.  It was just the right temperature.  She had already toed her boots off and was working on unclasping her pauldrons when Varric made a strangled noise behind her.  She had nearly forgotten he was there.

“I—I’m just gonna go then.”  She barely gave him another thought as he made a hasty retreat for the door.  She heard the door open, close and then open again.  Her hand stilled in the process of untucking her tunic from her breaches.  “Caspar’s got three guys standing outside.”  Varric was watching the ceiling with great attention.  She clenched her jaw in frustration and strode to the door, throwing it wide.  True to his word, three men lazed against the wall opposite their room.  They eyed her unkempt manner and she bristled before slamming the door shut, locking it with perhaps too much force.  Let them think what they want.   

“What is he playing at?  Are we to be prisoners in our own keep?  Our every move scrutinized?”  She kicked at her pack.   “They will report our movements?”  Varric nodded.  “And it would seem odd if either of us left at the moment?”

“After the scene we made?  Yeah I would think so.”  Cassandra weighed her options.  Keeping up the charade was of course of the utmost importance, but the bath looked so inviting.  Really it would be a shame for it go to waste.  They shared a bed.  They routinely dressed near one another, this was not such a stretch surely?  But it was and she knew it.  They had grown more comfortable in each other’s presence but there were lines they did not cross.  A part of her, the same part that thought about the way Varric’s hands would feel on her body, the part that had thought _home_ when she had stepped into the room, the part of her that she tried her best to ignore, that part of her wanted this.  Wanted more than this.  Cassandra shook her head to clear her mind, and ignored the sensation that had begun in her belly but was steadily moving downward.  Maker take her, she was a grown woman and she was not about to let some idle fascination get in the way of something thoroughly enjoyable.  

“Stay.”  She bent at the knee and rummaged through her pack.  “Over there.”  She pointed across the room to his desk, as far from the bath as possible in their close quarters.  She saw the look of realization pass over Varric’s face.

“You’re not—”

“Varric I have spent the last five days frozen to the core.  I am taking a bath whether you like it or not.”  Without another word, Varric moved to his desk.  His movements oddly stilted, his back ramrod straight as he sat in his chair.  She waited a beat, then another before gathering the rest of her things and quickly stripping off the rest of her clothes.  

She entered the water with a deep sigh.  It was perfect, exactly what she needed after the journey and spending hours trekking through the storm.  Her fingers and toes tingled fiercely as they regained feeling, while the water soaked away the strain in her muscles and joints.   She sunk deeper into the tub and groaned in delight, this was better than any mattress.  Though she had that to look forward to as well she thought with a smile.  She let her head fall back against the rim of the tub and enjoyed the all encompassing heat of the water for a few more moments before reaching for a cloth and her soap on the ground next to her.  Letting the piece of fabric sink to the bottom of the tub she held the bar of soap to her nose, breathing in the scent deeply.  Lavender and honey, straight from Orlais.  It was a treat, something special that she did not use often, but this seemed like the perfect opportunity.  Pulling the now soaked cloth from the tub she worked up a lather against the fabric and began dragging it across the skin of her arms, ignoring the sting of the soap as it worked its way into the cut on her palm.

“Did you”—Varric coughed—“Did you find the bandits?”  Her hand stilled at his voice.  Really though, had she expected him to sit there stoically, waiting for her to finish?  The vanity across from her, with its trifold mirror afforded her a slight view of Varric’s position without her having to turn around.  Though his back was to her she could just make out his hands flipping idly through the pages of a book.

“Eventually.”  She was not going to mention that their first encounter was hardly on their terms.  “They were spread out across the mountainside, but I believe we found them all, as well as the supplies that they had stolen.  Though I expect it will be a few days before anyone will be able to go fetch what is left.”

“How bad was it out there?”

“Manageable until this afternoon.”  She let the cloth wander across her chest and down her other arm before sinking further into the water, the thought of the harsh winter weather still fresh in her mind.  “That reminds me.  I must speak to Josephine about acquiring some more suitable clothes for Cole, or he will freeze away before the winter’s end.”  Of course, Cole frozen to one spot would put a damper on his sudden entrances.

“The Kid bother you much?”

“No more than usual, though he did seem very eager to talk to me about something.”  Varric’s hands stilled their movements in the mirror.

“Did he say about what?”

“No, Evelyn stopped him.  Apparently there is some big secret that I am supposed to know, but no one will tell me.”  A thought suddenly occurred to her.  She turned in the tub to face Varric’s back and rested both hands against the rim.  “Do you know?  You must, they mentioned you.”  Varric tilted his head almost imperceptibly in her direction, as if he wanted to turn to face her fully.  Maybe he did know something.

“No idea.”  Varric’s head did not return its focus until she slumped back into the water.  Why had she not asked him later when she could see his face, parse through his reaction?  Not that she had ever been particularly successful in that regard before.  Though she was getting better.

“Did anything happen while I was gone?”  She searched for the cloth again having dropped it..

“Not really—Curly moped the entire time though, anxious for the Inquisitor’s return I’d suspect.”  The thought brought a smile to her face.  “And no new news from Ruffles.  But I’d expect another _invitation_ from Caspar any day now.”

“He does seem to be more active.”  Varric gave a noncommittal shrug.  “Maybe he is preparing to leave?”

“One can only hope.”  The words stung unexpectedly, like the soap in her fresh wounds.  She spoke often and freely of wanting the Prince to leave Skyhold.  His departure would mean a return to normalcy.  But what was normal now?  Would she return to her spot in the forge, vacate Varric’s space and life as if none of this had ever happened?  Pass by one another with barely a nod of acknowledgement as had always been their way?  Bicker until they couldn’t be in the same room anymore?  That had been the original plan, when their marriage was nothing more than a pair of hastily scrawled signatures on a piece of parchment.  His comment had come so quick, flown instantaneously off his lips.  He wanted this to be over as soon as possible.  She had said something not dissimilar only a few days before, remembering her conversation with Bull.  Was this what he had meant, was the newfound relationship between herself and Varric worth all that had happened?  Maker take her, she had missed him!  She _would_ miss him, when this was all over.  Despite the hot water, a chill ran through her.  

“When this is over, when we have our lives back.  Will we—will you…”  She stumbled over her words, unsure how to phrase her question.  “We will still be friends?”  It did not hold the exact sentiment that she had wanted to convey, but her throat was tight, her breath a solid weight on her chest as she waited for a response all the same.  She took comfort in the fact that Varric could not look at her.  Though she lay naked and exposed, it was the question that made her feel vulnerable.

“I think we already determined that you won’t ever get rid of me Seeker,” he said with a short laugh.

“I meant—”

“—I know...what you meant.”  From his tone, a shade more genuine than his normal timbre, she knew he had understood her.  Keeping his eyes downcast Varric turned his chin to his shoulder, the profile of his face stood outlined in the low light.  “We’re more than a piece of paper.”  His words eased her mind, but set her heart a flutter.  “But it will be nice to have my bed back.  I’d almost forgotten what it was like to sleep without a tree next to me.  You sure there aren’t any more bandits for you to stick your sword in?”  Just like Varric to ruin the moment, undercut it with some snide remark.  Cassandra scoffed.

“I do not take up that much space!  The bed is more than large enough for the both of us,” she sniped.

“You humans are all limbs.  Your legs are far too long.”  He was goading her, his usual carefree tone had returned.

“I have never had any complaints before.”  Cassandra nearly pulled her legs in self-consciously, but instead stretched them out to their fullest.  Letting them dangle past the edge of the tub, she wiggled her toes defiantly.

“No, I don’t suppose you have.”  Varric turned away from her again, returning to whatever he had been doing before.

She lingered in the tub until the water turned cold, her fingers and toes long since wrinkled.  Varric broke their affable silence, “If you fall asleep I’m leaving you in there.”  She would have too, her eyelids were already drooping.  With great effort she rose from the bath and dressed quickly, her nightshirt clinging to damp patches along her skin where she had dried herself with too much haste.  She took more care with her hair, wringing out as much moisture as she could.  Diligently she put away her things, and hung her damp clothes by the fire before giving in to her fatigue.  The soft wools and linens felt like the finest silks against her fingers as she slid the covers back and climbed into bed.  A barely coherent “Goodnight Varric” was all she could manage before her head hit the pillow and she was whisked into the deep sleep of exhaustion on the back of Varric’s quiet “Night Seeker.”

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I debated with myself all day about whether or not I was just going to delete this chapter, it is admittedly pretty frivolous. But then I had to walk through a snowstorm to get home which I thought was rather apt, so here it is.
> 
> Next chapter, some familiar faces return!


	11. Chapter 11

“Seeker!”

Cassandra awoke with a start.  Varric’s face was barely a hand's width from hers, his warm breath trailed across her cheek.  She tried to pull back, put some space between the two of them but her efforts were blocked by the vice-like tangle of blankets and bedclothes that had somehow wound its way around her waist.  Varric’s too she soon realized.  All she could do was look in total amazement at the very literal mess they were in.

“How?”

“No idea,” he said with a shake of his head, a strand of hair fell across his face in the process.  Her fingers twitched in response, yearning to brush it from his face.  Varric rarely let his hair down, the tie must have come loose in the night.  Even after weeks of sharing a room, and a bed this was still a rare occurrence.  Of course, so was waking up next to Varric she realized.  “Let me try—” Varric yanked on a stray bit of sheet in a feeble attempt to untangle the mess, but only succeeded in pulling her flush against him.  Suddenly it was not only his hair that was distracting her.  His body was like granite against hers, yet it radiated heat as if he was a living flame.  Without warning her mind dredged up the memory of her waking in the night pressed against him.  She could feel the unbidden want that had welled within her bloom again.  She breathed shallowly through her nose, not wanting to shift against him in any fashion.  A mistake she realized, as suddenly all she could smell was him.  Woodsmoke, a faint trace of soap and the heady musk of sleep.  Unconsciously she breathed more deeply a second time, the motion pressing her chest more firmly against his.  This was dangerous, she needed to extricate herself as quickly as possible lest she succumb to the part of herself that she was rapidly losing control of.

“Yes.  Very helpful.”  She tried to sound nonplussed, hoping that Varric wouldn’t notice the breathless quality of her voice.  Varric winked at her in response.  “Ugh.”  She rolled her eyes, anything to distract him from the heat she could feel crawling up from her chest. 

“Alright, let’s try this instead.”  

Cassandra let Varric take the lead, it seemed like he had some sort of plan, which was more than she could contribute.  The bed became a twisting mass of limbs and sheets, as the air rang thick with curses.  Had her mind not been distracted she would have scolded Varric for his rather vivid and outlandish blasphemes, but she was too busy tempering her own reprehensible thoughts.  Any time Varric’s directions caused them to come in contact with one another she tried to suppress a thrill.  More than once she ended up with her hands placed against his chest or gripping his arms, his coiled muscles hard and hot under her fingertips.  If she hadn’t known any better she would have suspected he was doing it on purpose as with every subsequent touch his grip on her legs crawled higher and higher until it brushed the raised hem of her nightshirt against her upper thigh.  Thankfully before she had to make the torturous decision about whether or not to stop Varric’s possibly roaming hands, they were detached.  Cassandra flopped back into the mattress, arms flung wide, breathing heavily.  She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, and attempted to straighten her nightshirt which lay bunched around her waist.  Varric crawled over her and out of the bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and a light perspiration off his forehead.

There was a knock at the door.  

Without hesitation or thought Varric crossed the room and opened it.  Dorian stood on the other side, his fist raised in mid knock.  He looked at Varric, then at Cassandra, then back at Varric.  A wicked looking smile crept up his face. 

Cassandra realized what it must look like, the two of them red faced and disarrayed, the bed a mess.  She made a strangled noise, all she could manage in her surprise trying to explain.  Dorian opened his raised fist as if to silence her, simply taking in the scene before him once more before turning around and walking away, laughing uproariously.

Varric closed the door, leaning a hand against it as his head dropped in defeat.  

“Well that was to be expected,” Varric sighed.  Cassandra rolled over in the bed, smashing her face into a pillow to muffle her sounds of rage.  Of all the people.  Of all the mornings.  

Another knock came from the door, quieter than before but with more urgency.  Cassandra looked up from the pillow to find Varric staring back at her as if seeking permission to open it this time around.  With grim determination she shooed him away from the door and stalked towards it herself.  She would give Dorian a piece of her mind, then they would see who was laughing.  With a ferocious snarl in place, Cassandra swung the door open.  The force of the motion caused the hinges of the door to make an awful wrenching noise and send specks of rust flaking to the ground.  A scathing condemnation had nearly passed her lips before she realized the figure before her was not Dorian come back to mock them, but a startled Josephine who was quickly recoiling against the opposite wall.  

“My word!  Did I wake you?”  Josephine clutched her writing board to her chest and pressed herself hard against the wall, as if hoping the stone would defy all laws of nature and forgive her the space she sought to retreat into.  Cassandra blanched, sputtering in an attempt to regain her composure and reassure Josephine all at once.  Varric pulled her back into the room, taking her place at the door.

“Don’t worry Ruffles, you didn’t wake the sleeping dragon.  Come on in.”  He waved Josephine into the room, deliberately using the sweeping gesture to corral Cassandra out of her path.  Cassandra swatted at the arm across her stomach, she was not a sheep to be herded.  “You’ll have to excuse the Seeker, we had an unexpected visitor this morning.”

“Dorian,” sneered Cassandra retreating from the doorway to sulk against the fireplace.

“Oh, I see.  Yes, that would explain it.”  Josephine gave them both an understanding look.  “I passed him in the corridor, thought he was crying at first.”  Cassandra dropped her head into her hands and groaned.  Insufferable man.  “But, I came for a reason.”  Josephine left her no time to wallow and resumed her normal businesslike manner.  “Prince Caspar is going hunting this morning and has asked that you join him.  He will be leaving just as soon as a path can be cleared to the stables.”

Varric gave Cassandra a look as if to say, I told you so.  That they had not been summoned the night before had been a miracle, this  _ invitation _ came as no surprise.  “I have just spent the last five days  _ hunting _ , can we not decline?  Tell him—tell him I have missed my husband and we would like to be...alone.”  She all but mumbled the last word having lost her conviction partway through her statement.  Colour dotted her cheeks.  Despite her shoddy delivery, Varric gave her an approving nod and a silent thumbs up behind Josephine’s back. 

“Oh no, not you Cassandra.  The Prince specifically asked that you not be bothered after your journey.  No, he has asked for Varric to accompany him.”  Cassandra straightened to attention and shared a concerned look with Varric.

“Just me?”  The seriousness of Varric’s voice disconcerted her more than Josephine’s words.  Varric was quick to brush off most things, he thought she worried unnecessarily.  For him to show even an ounce of apprehension made hers stir with earnest.  

“Well not only you.  Cullen, and a few of the guards will be going as well.  The Inquisitor was invited but she has other duties I’m afraid.”

“How come she get’s to say no?”  Josephine ignored his question and continued on.

“You can join the party at the front gate as soon as you are ready.”  With a nod to both of them, Josephine left the room.  Cassandra could only watch her go, feet rooted to the spot by worry.  Varric had already begun moving around the room, getting ready.

“You are not actually going are you?” Cassandra looked at him incredulously.

“Do I have a choice?”  His reply was slightly muffled as he pulled his tunic over his head.  “I mean, yeah this feels weird.  I definitely thought the only reason he put up with me was because of you, but maybe we were wrong?”  Cassandra huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, watching Varric precariously hop across the room in an attempt to put his breeches on and grab his boots at the same time.  “Look Curly’s gonna be with me, and I know you trust him to have your back.”  He was right.  Though she felt she had every reason to be suspicious of Caspar, he had not actually done anything to either of them.  Nor was he likely to in the close company of their men.  Reluctantly she picked up Varric’s duster off the back of his chair and handed it to him.

“Be alert.  Be careful.”  She gripped the coat tightly not loosening her grasp one bit at Varric’s insistent tugs.  He rolled his eyes at her concern, but when she still did not let go he gave an understanding nod.

“I will,” he said softly.  Covering her hand with his he squeezed her fingers gently, easing them off the fabric.  With his coat and Bianca in hand he turned to leave, casually calling out as the door shut behind him, “But really, what’s the worst that could happen?”

\---- 

The sky was crystal clear not a cloud in sight, it held no trace of the storm that had raged across it the night before.  The same could not be said for the rest of the landscape.  Though the walls of the fortress had stood against the ravaging winds, they had been little match for the snow and ice which had fallen seemingly without end.  Great white peaks, some nearly the height of one of Dennet’s prized stallions, littered the grounds.  It looked as though someone had taken a paintbrush to the inside of the fortress draping every surface in shimmering whites.  Sweeping broad strokes concealed doors and windows with waist deep drifts, and erased stairs and ramps with a heavy hand.  It glistened as the early morning sun began to melt the thinnest layers of ice.  But it would not be enough to clear out the grounds, not by a longshot.

The normal hustle of the castle inhabitants moved as if in slow motion.  For those that persisted in their duties their work was restricted to the paths which had been stubbornly drummed out by those that had come before them.  Cassandra watched as many others gave up on their tasks altogether, electing to help with the snow removal instead, as she had.  The training grounds were unuseable, masked under a layer of deep, dense snow that would be one of the last to be cleared.  Their soldiers efforts were being put to use in other ways today.  A system slowly came into place over the course of the morning.  Carts were filled with as much snow as they could take then dragged off to be emptied in areas less frequented.  Although she suspected most of the snow was being sloughed off the sides of the bridge against Josephine’s better wishes.

Cassandra dumped another spadeful of snow into the nearest cart, before unlacing the top of her tunic.  She pulled at the fabric as it clung to her skin and let the chilled air run over her neck and down her back.  She was down to her last layer, and it too was damp with perspiration.  Cassandra stuck her spade into the ground again, she couldn’t stop for long.  The work was backbreaking, as tough as any morning’s training exercises, but if she paused for too long the chill quickly seeped in.  Better to stay in motion.  One of her sleeves fell down her arm and she haphazardly pushed it up to her elbow before attacking the packed snow with her spade for the hundredth if not thousandth time that morning.  Their progress was slow, but with each cartful taken away the grounds began to resemble something familiar once again.  As much as she would have preferred to be inside in front of a fire with a hot cup of mulled wine and a good book, the hard labour was proving to be a fairly decent distraction.  And she needed one.  Desperately.  

No amount of cajoling from Josephine had eased her mind.  Something wasn’t right, she could feel it.  She had no facts or evidence to back up her feelings, but she trusted her gut all the same.  She should have insisted that Varric stay, or she should have gone with him.  Cassandra thumbed her ring through her glove.  It was not good for them to be apart, not when in Caspar’s company.  She balanced an overly full spade into the cart and dug into the snow again.  Was she being ridiculous?  Varric kept insisting that she was seeing things where there was nothing.  A sideways glance, an oddly emphasized word.  “You’re looking for trouble,” he had told her one evening after yet another dinner with Caspar.  She had tried to tell him that these people were not the Carta thugs that he was used to, they would not be so blatant.  On top of everything it had been the wrong thing to say, and they had had one more thing to argue about that night.  She hadn’t brought it up again, her worries, but now she wished she had.  Last night with the Prince’s men outside their room, and this morning the aberration in Varric’s voice at Caspar’s request.  She could tell that he no longer thought everything was fine and that was more than enough evidence for her.  It would seem she trusted Varric’s opinion more than most these days.  Snow toppled off of her spade as the blade dipped under the weight of it.  She hurriedly threw what was left in the cart and took a deep breath.  Apparently hard labour was not enough of a distraction after all.  

She regretted now not taking Bull up on his offer of a “snowball fight for the ages.”  Keeping her wits about her as the Chargers and Sera pelted everyone in sight would have been more than enough distraction for her.  The prospect of slushy ice and snow down the back of her shirt no longer seemed as unappealing now that her clothes clung to her with her own sweat.  She couldn’t hear their jeers and shouts anymore, likely they had retreated inside once they’d had their fill of fun.  Or they had been enlisted into work as had so many others who found themselves idle too long.  No, she would have to distract herself some other way.

As if the Maker had suddenly developed a sense of humour, Cole appeared in the distance.  Josephine had outfitted the spirit in sturdy and practical winter wear, at her request, though he still wore her red scarf.  It clashed horribly with the rest of his gear, but she doubted that it mattered to him one bit.  Cole walked seemingly without purpose, but his loping stride was aimed in her direction.  As he grew closer she could see that a dusting of snow covered his person, as if he had been rolling about in it.  

“Maryden called them snow spirits, she showed me how to make them.”  Cassandra found it easy to suppress her irritation at Cole plucking her thoughts from her mind as the image of him cavorting with the bard in the snow arose alongside it.  “Sera called them  _ shite _ and said I couldn’t be on her team anymore.  I think I played her game wrong.”  Cassandra huffed in amusement, and bent to collect more snow.  “Your game looks less fun.”

“We can’t all play I’m afraid.”  Rising she dumped more snow into the cart, it slid of the spade with a satisfying thud.  Cole watched her repeat the motion before he squatted to scoop up a handful of snow from the ground and carefully placed it in the cart.  He bent to pick up another and she held out a hand to stop him.  “Thank you Cole, but you needn’t.  I would...I would however, appreciate your company.”  Cole tilted his head as he listened to her request, considering it.  She had wanted a distraction and the Maker had provided.  But there was another reason to covet Cole’s presence, one that made her feel deceitful and unprincipled for even considering it.  In the blink of an eye Cole vanished from in front of her and reappeared to her side, atop the cartful of snow.  She managed to give only the minimalist of starts at the movement.

“The Inquisitor said I must not talk to you about…” Cole’s voice trailed off, and images of their quarrel flickered through her mind.  “About that.  But that is not what you wanted to ask me about.”  Cassandra diverted her eyes from Cole’s in shame.  It had been naive of her to think that somehow he would not see her true intentions.  “You worry.”  

“Should I?”  Her reply was quick and thready.  If anyone could provide her with insight on Caspar’s intentions, it was Cole.  But to chastise Cole for intruding on her own thoughts, then ask him to spy on others?  She felt an annoyed growl bubble in her throat, she could not have it both ways.  It would be hypocritical and a violation of the highest order.  Cole opened his mouth to respond and she held up her hand to cut him off.  “No.  Do not answer, I should not have asked.”  But Cole could know something, and this wasn’t just about her, it was about Varric’s safety as well.  Cassandra ground her teeth as she debated with herself internally.  It was a thin rationalization against such a forceful action.  Surely Cole would say something if they were in imminent danger?

“I will protect my friends.  If it comes to it.”  Her heartrate, already thrumming from the day’s excursion, pounded in her chest.  What did he mean?  That something  _ could  _ come to pass?  Or merely that he would act if he saw cause?  Maker take her she was no better off than before, only closer to compromising her values. 

“Thank you Cole, I do not doubt it.  But speak no more of it please.  I would not have you debase yourself as I have.”  Cassandra kicked her spade into the snow forcefully, breaking through a chunk of ice.  Cole sat silently beside her.  

He stayed for awhile longer, as Cassandra continued to clear the area.  He would comment occasionally on one topic then another with no apparent connective thread.  He expected minimal response, content it seemed to create a subdued chatter.  A hum of white noise.  She could have spent the rest of the day as such, until she realized that with every spadeful she had deposited into the cart Cole had been scrapping handfuls of snow off it and onto the ground on other side.  A fair sized pile had emerged, hidden from her view.  Cole disappeared almost as soon as she noticed, probably foreseeing the speed and fury with which she would have shooed him off.

It was not long after Cole had left her that her next distraction presented itself.  As refined as the icicles that hung off the eaves of the buildings in her path, and equally as deadly, Vivienne glided towards her.  In her presence she felt every smudge of dirt, every sweat stain on her person.  Vivienne stood resplendent against the snow, the crisp whites of her robes making the untouched drifts seem dull in comparison.  She stood as if the cold had no effect on her, as if the uneven banks of snow beneath her foot brooked no impediment.

“My Dear, do you mean to clear the entirety of the grounds yourself?”  Vivienne delicately arch her brow at the spade in her hand.  Cassandra forcibly drove it into the snow and balanced her hands atop the handle.

“Do you have a better idea?”

“That’s exactly it, I’m looking for Dorian.  Surely we can come up with something a little more... _ dignified _ .”  Vivienne’s gaze swept over Cassandra’s form, but she barely registered the motion as she tried to keep her own eye from twitching at the mention of Dorian’s name.

“I would have thought you of all people would have had enough of that man.”  Dorian and Vivienne had spent the last month traipsing through the Hinterlands in search of some artifact or another.  The Inquisitor had been convinced that it was a mission that required the mages skills.  That they were to be gone so long had been the only thing to keep Evelyn from going herself.

“It was a long month, but we all must endure it seems.”  Cassandra felt oddly vindicated as Vivienne’s eyes narrowed.  It would seem that even Vivienne was not above torrid gossip.  She steeled herself against what was coming, the inevitable comment or aspersion about the marriage, and the Prince, and all the she had missed in the last month.  “Have you seen him?”  It took a moment for Cassandra to remember what they had actually been talking about, her mind having jumped to what she had assumed would be the next step in conversation.  Her feeling of vindication wavered.

“Briefly.  This morning.”  She would give no more explanation than that, the memory of Dorian standing in the doorway still left a foul taste in her mouth.

“Well.  If that is all, I suppose I shall have to seek him out myself.”  Vivienne turned in a tidy swirl that left a sprinkling of snow trailing after her.  Cassandra stayed at attention as Vivienne walked away.  There was still time for some sort of comment, she expected no less from the mage.  True to form Vivienne paused in her retreat and turned to look over her shoulder back at Cassandra, as if a thought had just occurred to her.  “It is a pity I wasn’t there my dear, I am an absolute delight at weddings.”  With an almost imperceptible smile Vivienne continued on her way.  She could have done for one of Bull’s snowballs right about now.  Cassandra doubted that even Vivienne, the picture of dignified elegance could pull off a faceful of slush.

Cassandra had barely managed another spadeful of snow when a flurry of movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.  She stood, spade in hand and turned to see if there was anything actually there.  A flash of grey and red jutted up from behind a pile of snow then quickly retreated.  Evelyn.  Cassandra watched as the Inquisitor crept around the snow drifts keeping her stance low, her head swivelling as if scanning the area.  Evelyn crossed the distance between them in a few exaggerated strides.  Cassandra sighed, she would never finish her work at this rate.  Though she had asked for a distraction.  The Inquisitor hunched against the cart, using the piled snow as cover and gave Cassandra a nonchalant nod of the head and no explanation as to her odd behaviour. 

“Inquisitor, I did not expect to see you today.  Do you not have business to attend to?”  

“Is Josephine around?” She replied in a stage whisper.

“No.”

“Then no.”  Evelyn stretched out to her full height, but stayed leaning against the cart.  “I  _ may _ have over exaggerated my workload for the day.  Can you blame me though?   _ Hunting _ ?”  She gave an exasperated look.  “I swear on Andraste’s Ashes, if Corypheus showed up on that mountain right this moment, I’d make him wait till spring.  Hunting,” she said again with a scoff as if the idea was the most ludicrous thing she’d ever heard.  “I see you’re still here.”

“I was not to be bothered.  Apparently,” Cassandra replied, with a touch of defiance.  

“Why didn’t  _ I _ get that kind of consideration.  Just because I’m the Inquisitor doesn’t mean I need to be invited to everything.”

“I think Josephine would disagree on that matter.”  Evelyn ducked her head and did a hasty scan of their surroundings at the mention of the Ambassador’s name.  Cassandra eyed her with amusement as she tried to play the motion off as nothing, and began lounging again with a forced ease.

“Well I can’t imagine the boys are having much fun.  Varric’s probably complaining so loudly he’s scared off all the game.”  Cassandra could only manage a weak smirk, though it probably looked more like a grimace.  Evelyn looked suddenly chastened.  “Sorry, didn’t mean to make light.  Josie mentioned that you had concerns.”

Cassandra tightened her grip on the handle of the spade, she did not like being so easily read.  “They are unfounded.  I should not be letting them control me so.”

“Well personally, I think we could all stand to be a little more suspicious these days.”

“A sentiment I heartily support.”  Evelyn jolted at the sound of Leliana’s voice and moved as if to flee.  A moments indecision saw the Spymaster rounding the snow filled cart and coming into view of both women.  Leliana’s eyes flickered over Cassandra and took in Evelyn’s form, poised to run but frozen in place.  Like a startled Halla, with none of the grace.  “You can relax, I was not sent for you.”  Evelyn retracted her limbs with a feigned obliviousness, taking her time to resettle herself against the cart as if her sudden blur of activity had been nothing but intentional.

“I should go away more often.  Am I to entertain the entire keep today?”

“I have been sent to relieve you, as you will not rest yourself.  Come inside, the snow is not going anywhere.”

“Yes, that is the crux of the issue.”

“Come.”  Leliana took the spade from Cassandra’s hands.  “I could have another bath sent to your room if you’d like?”  Cassandra stood still, perplexed.  Her brows quirked gently at the thought.  

“That was you?”  Leliana eyed her questioningly. 

“Who did you think it was?”  Cassandra realized her mistake all too late.  Of course it had been Leliana.  Varric had denied knowledge of the bath, but he had denied involvement of the fires, the tea.  Everything she knew to be his handiwork.  She’d had no reason to suspect otherwise in regards to the bath, although it had been a far more intimate gift than any of his others.  No, she was not surprised to learn that it was Leliana who had orchestrated the matter.  Though she was oddly disappointed at the realization.  Leliana’s gaze had not left her’s and the Inquisitor’s face now held an examining look as well.  She relented with a perfunctory scoff.

“Varric.  He has been doing things, leaving...gifts,” she said with a wave of her hand as if to diminish her words.  

“Like what?”  Evelyn’s question surprised her in its haste.  She responded before she could think about what she was saying.

“Lighting fires, and bringing blankets and tea and—” She cut herself off, snatching her hand back in and gripping it tightly.  Why was she expounding upon this?  It all felt too personal, like she was exposing herself to them, inviting them into something private and secretive.  Evelyn looked as if she was attempting to hold back a smile, even Leliana’s eyes had brightened at her explanation.  She would not be mocked.  “Forget I said anything.”  Cassandra scowled at the two women and took a step around the the pair.

“No don’t stop!”  The Inquisitor really was smiling now.  “It’s just all too adorable.”

“Varric is not adorable!”  She balked at the very thought.  “He is repugnant, and repulsive, and...frustrating...and…”  Her heart was not in it.  Varric was certainly not adorable but he did not deserve her ire.  It was just too difficult to reconcile his actions with her opinions on the man.  “Fine,” she huffed.  “He is charitable, and honorable, and compassionate.  But he is not  _ adorable _ ,” she finished with a sneer.  Leliana  _ was _ smiling now, a soft, demure smile that spoke of gentle happiness.  The Inquisitor held an expectant look, as if waiting for Cassandra to continue her tirade.  Cassandra realized that in her fervor she had been fingering her ring through her glove. She dropped her hand instantly as if it had burned her.  Had the others noticed?  Her stomach felt leaden, like a heavy weight had concentrated within her.  She had never spoken aloud her feelings regarding Varric.  Her new feelings.  The ones that had developed over the course of the last few weeks.  It was one thing to ponder over them as they hovered in the back of her mind, another thing entirely to speak them aloud.  What had been mere conjecture, idle speculation now seemed concrete.  A truth realized.  The weight in her stomach moved to her throat, constricting her breathing. 

Evelyn and Leliana shared a look and it was everything she could do not to run.  Bolt for the safety of their room.  No!   _ Varric’s _ room.  Maker take her.  Her thoughts rushed altogether at once, an overwhelming cluster of memories, feelings, sensations.  Conversations in the dark, unabashed and unfettered.  A sense of safety and comfort she had not felt since her losses at the Conclave.  The flip of her stomach at even his lightest touch, rehearsed or not.  Oh she had been a  _ fool _ .  Her whole body shivered as if she had been doused with a bucket of ice cold water.  It was beyond the chill that had been steadily creeping through her body as the sweat on her person dried and cooled, as the shifting winds pulled the frigid air off the snow around her.  It was the cold truth of realization.  The dam bursting on all that she had been keeping locked away, safe she had thought from prying eyes, and her own introspection.  She liked Varric.  Andraste preserve her, she  _ more _ than liked Varric.  It was all so obvious, how could she not have noticed?  But her eyes were opened now, like a book once read, she could not forget, she could not unknow her feelings.  

As if her mind was not tangled enough more memories poured in.  The questioning glances, the expectant looks.  The argument on the mountainside.  Cassandra looked sharply at the Inquisitor and spoke with a quiet severity, “You knew.”  Evelyn matched her stare, not one to be cowed, with a tight lipped mouth unwillingly to say anything without further clarification. 

“Sers!”  The shout broke through the developing tension and all three women glanced towards the sound.  A soldier hurried across the snow towards them, rushing with a stolid determination.  “There’s been an accident.”  

Cassandra was sure she had stepped on an errant piece of ice as she felt the world drop out from under her.  Before she had even fully regained her grasp on her surroundings, she was off, running in the direction that the soldier had come.  He was still talking, explaining it to the others but she didn’t need to hear, she knew.  Varric.  

She ran through the snow, not bothering with the thin lanes that others had created.  Cassandra tore through it carving her own path towards the healers.  As if the dense knee-high drifts were nothing more than thin blades of grass.  Blood pounded in her ears in time with the dull thuds of booted footsteps following behind her.  She gave it no heed.  Her mind centred, possessed of a singular thought.  Let him be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up cause I'm taking y'all on a ride.


	12. Chapter 12

Cassandra burst through the door to the healers.  Her entrance brought with it a sudden gust of air that sent the thin sheets, acting as makeshift screens between the cots, fluttering down the length of the room.  A weak chorus of grumbles from the beds nearest the door followed with it.  Breath caught in her throat Cassandra tried to scan the room for some sign of activity, some sign of Varric.  But the sheets that hung from the rafters made it impossible to see the occupants of the cordoned off areas.  She strode briskly through the room discreetly peering into the beds.  Most were unoccupied, and those that weren’t did not hold who she was looking for.  Her mind conjured up scenarios, each worse than the next as to what could have happened, what it would mean if she did not find him here.  A crash came from the back of the room.

“Andraste’s flaming knickers!  Watch it!”  Cassandra inhaled quickly.  Varric.  She ran to the end of the row of cots, nearly careening into a young mage looking wide-eyed and panicked as he stumbled out from behind a curtain.  She pushed both the mage and the sheet out of the way and was presented with Varric sitting on a cot, stripped to the waist and clutching his arm.

“Varric!” she all but cried, unable to disguise the distress in her voice.  Closing the distance to the edge of his cot she took his head in her hands, running her fingers through his hair, holding his chin and angling his face one way then the other.  Finding nothing her hands quickly travelled down his chest and arms, searching for any sign of injury.  He hissed as her hands ran across his back, and she swiftly tilted his upper body to see what was there.  His right shoulder blade sported an x-shaped gouge the size of a large peach pit.  A bolt wound.  It wasn’t too deep but it was still bleeding despite the smears of older dried blood surrounding it.  She turned him to face her again and knelt against the slatted floor.  “Are you alright?  What happened?”  Cassandra scoured Varric’s face, his eyes did not look glazed, and his face did not have a sickly pallor.  Aside from the gaping wound in his back he seemed fine.  

“Easy Seeker.  Maker your bedside manner is about as good as theirs.”  Varric glared at the mage now cowering at the end of his cot.  Cassandra noticed the broken bolt in the young man’s hand, which explained Varric’s earlier cries.  She turned back to Varric, there was no time for this, she needed to know what had happened.  Grasping Varric’s chin again she turned his face back to look at hers.

“What happened?”  Her chest heaved and pressed against the confines of her breastplate as she tried to suppress her laboured breathing and keep her voice calm.

“Ah, I’m afraid this is my fault.”  Cassandra’s head whipped up at the sound of Caspar’s voice.  In her tunnel vision she had not even realized he was there, though he stood almost near enough to touch on the other side of the cot.  “One of my men overshot his target and hit Varric instead, an accident I assure you.”  Caspar looked, for the first time that she had seen, embarrassed.  “Truly, not a half pace to the right and it would have struck me instead.”  Cassandra discreetly glanced back at Varric looking for him to confirm or deny the Prince’s story.  Already she could feel a searing rage beginning to boil up within her.  If she saw even a hint of denial from Varric she would eschew all of Josephine’s pleas.  Throw diplomacy to wind.  

Varric gave her an earnest nod, validating Caspar’s tale.  “Just an accident,” he added in a decisive tone, as if to pacify her.  She stared intently at his face, looking for any quirk, any expression that might tell her otherwise.  Varric removed her hand from his face using the action to mask a swift shake of his head that told her he was telling the truth, there was nothing more to what had happened.  

Boots clattered against the wood covered ground beyond the sheets and Leliana and Evelyn lurched into view.  “He’s fine,” Evelyn said with a wheeze, holding her side.  “Didn’t you hear us yelling?”  She turned away from the group, catching her breath and muttering, “I could kill that messenger.  Needlessly dramatic.”

“Fine?!  I have a hole in my back!”  Cassandra let out a relaxed sigh, if Varric had enough strength to complain he really was fine.  Varric glanced up at Caspar and hastily corrected himself,  “—I mean, it’s nothing really.  Barely a scratch.”  Varric stooped his head to hide his face from Caspar and gave her an overly strained look that had her suppressing a laugh.  Fears abated she relaxed her stance, settling back onto her heels and placing her free hand on Varric’s thigh.  Out of the corner of her eye she watched Varric’s gaze flicker down to her hand atop his leg then up to her face before turning his gaze away from her completely.  Was she imagining it or was colour blooming across his cheeks?  

A heavy, determined stride announced another visitor before she could see them.  Leliana and the Inquisitor hastily stepped back, revealing the young mage again and allowing room for whoever was approaching.  An older woman, her grey hair scraped into a tight bun stepped up to the end of the bed.  She held her head high with a self-assurance that said she was not to be taken lightly.  “What is the meaning of this?  You!”  She rounded on the young mage.  “Why hasn’t this patient been properly seen to?”  He stammered in response.  Evelyn and Leliana took another step back in unison, edging their way back down the open corridor.  “This will not do.  Everyone out!  I don’t care who you are.”  Cassandra schooled her face as to not smirk as the woman’s stern gaze landed on Caspar, sending the Prince’s eyes wide.  Her mirth was short lived however as the healer’s attention was turned to her next.  

Cassandra rose quickly from the floor under her severe stare.  She made to leave, turning almost completely before impulse struck her.  Before she could over think it, Cassandra turned back around and grasped Varric’s head once again.  Gentler this time.  She tilted his head up just a shred before placing a kiss to his forehead.  She had meant it to be short and chaste, but once her lips had touched his skin she did not want to leave it.  Her heart ached as she realized how much she wanted this, wanted him.  While simultaneously understanding that this was the extent to which she would ever have him.  Falsely and always at arm's length.  She lingered yet still once her lips had finally left his skin, hovering above his face unable to look down.  Unwilling to read his expression, or to let him see hers lest he see through her, read what was written so plainly across her heart.  Cassandra pulled her arms reluctantly back to her sides and retreated from the improvised room, looking anywhere but at Varric.

\----

Cassandra paced the length of the war table.  Cullen was reciting the events of that morning for the fifth time now.  The others were getting antsy, his story had not changed, not one word in five retellings.  But she wanted to hear it again.  She needed to hear it again.  Every detail no matter how small, how seemingly unimportant.  

“—Varric was standing downhill two, maybe three paces away from me.  Caspar was to his right, a hand's width apart at most.  One of Caspar’s men, Mayden, the tall one, loosed a bolt at a fox.  The wind shifted unexpectedly and it hit Varric in the shoulder.  Just on the edge of his back plates or the damage could have been much worse.  It was a bit chaotic after that with his men and our men running about.  Making sure that Varric was okay, and trying to figure out if it had been intentional.  Suspicions were high among everyone by that point.  Caspar insisted that his men put down their weapons in a show of good faith.”  Cullen scratched his chin.  “And you know the rest.  It looked an accident, and I see no reason to believe otherwise.  I don’t think his men such great shots that they would risk the Prince’s life in such a gamble.”  

Cassandra stopped her pacing and stared out the windows that ran the length of the wall, arms clasped behind her back.  She let Cullen’s words roll through her mind, painting a mental picture of the events, step by step.  Everyone was convinced of Caspar’s innocence.  Everyone but her.

“Again.”  There was a collective groan from behind her.

“Cassandra he has already explained it five times, a sixth will make no difference.”  Evelyn was eager to leave, they all were.  The Inquisitor, Cullen, Josephine, Leliana and herself had convened in the war room just as soon as they had been bundled out of the healers.  Caspar’s assurances and apologies trailing them almost the entire way.  “Cullen has said it was an accident.  Varric has said it was an accident.  What more is there to say, or do you doubt their assessments?”  Cassandra clenched her jaw, grinding her teeth in silent opposition.  “The day is waning Cassandra, let us depart and we can reconvene tomorrow if you see fit.”  Though her words suggested compromise, the faces she saw reflected in the windows wore tired expressions irked by her dogged insistence.  They sought her concession though they would not ask it of her.  

“Go.”  There was a moment’s breath before the first person moved, a hesitation for her benefit before they trailed out of the room.  The door swung shut with a rasp against the stone floor, and she stood at attention a moment longer watching its reflection still before letting out a huff.  Cassandra unclasped her hands from behind her back, refolding them across her chest.  She was being stubborn now.  She knew it.  They all knew it.  She had affixed upon the idea that Caspar was something more, something untoward, something insidious.  Now she did not know if she couldn’t relent on the matter because there was genuinely something to it or because of her pride.  Cassandra knuckled her forehead in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that had built there.  The accident wasn’t the only thing on her mind.  Was not the only thing causing her consternation.  Of all the moments to discover her own truths, to reveal her buried secrets this may have been the worst.  She had feelings for Varric, and now those feelings were clouding her judgement.  Would she be this adamant about Caspar had it been anyone else that had been injured?  She was disappointed in herself that the answer to that question was so obviously no.

Leliana’s reflection appeared beside hers in the window and she was glad for it.  “Did you want to talk about it?”

“What more is there to say that Cullen has not already said.”  Leliana met her eyes in their reflection in the window and waited.  “Oh.”  Cassandra’s shoulders slumped minutely.  “You meant about the other thing.”  Leliana gave no indication one way or the other that that was what she had meant, but she averted her eyes all the same allowing her to come to it in her own time.  “Varric is the most aggravating, irritating, _frustrating_ man I have ever known, and I think I might lo—have feelings for him.”  She was not ready to say that word, not out loud, not even to herself.  It could be true, but it was enough to admit that there was anything there at all.  For now atleast.

“Will you tell him?”  Sensible as always, and right to the point.  Leliana would not press her for an explanation, would not require her to persuade her of her feelings and she silently thanked her for it.  Another might ask more of her, unsatisfied with her revelations.  But there was a level of trust and understanding between them that most did not have.  It was not required of Hands to be anything more than acquaintances, but it was moments such as this that she was glad to call Leliana a friend.

“How can I with what is at stake?  I would not jeopardize our friendship, nor would I put him in a position where he felt even an ounce of obligation.  I have asked so much of him already.  No.”  She shook her head.  “I will not tell him.”  It was as much a response to Leliana’s question as it was a statement unto her herself.

“And you would be satisfied with that?  Caring for him from afar?”  Cassandra felt her breath leak out of her, leaving her feeling hollow and empty.  Going into this she had steeled herself against weaknesses of the heart.  She gave a wry, cynical huff realizing that it may have been what had kept her from understanding her feelings sooner.  Now she wished she had done a better job.  To love was to know heartache.  She knew this well, but it did not make it any easier.

“Is there any other way?  It is not as if he cares for me.”  Leliana caught her eye again in their reflection.  Cassandra rolled hers in response.  “Tea and blankets do not mean a thing,” she growled, though it pained her to say it.

“I would not be so sure—”

“—Stop.  Do not speak of what you do not know.  Do not—” her voice hitched and her nose began to burn.  “—Do not make this more painful than it already is.”  Cassandra turned her face from the window, away from Leliana.  There was a limit to which she was willing to share with the woman.  A moment of weakness such as this was something she would have prefered to suffer in solitude.  She heard Leliana shift closer, and the solid warmth of her hand was placed on her shoulder soon after.

“Think on it.  I would not lead you where I thought you might falter,” she spoke quietly though there was no one else to hear.  “Go.”  Leliana removed her hand and Cassandra felt the loss of it keenly.  “He will need you tonight, and there is no point in delaying what cannot be avoided.”  Cassandra did not look up even when Leliana left her side, nor at her parting remark.  “You will weather it, whatever you choose.”  Cassandra was not so sure.

\----

A fire blazed in the hearth, flames licking the stone, with an occasional pop of the wood as it resettled.  Cassandra stilled her hands, did not give in to the temptation to take the poker up once again.  The fire needed no tending, she had already seen to that many times over since the sun had set.  But she felt the itch all the same, the itch to do something, anything.  She was at a loss.  

She had taken her time returning to Varric’s room.  Somewhere in the last few weeks they had begun calling it _their_ room, but she could no longer afford that slip up.  Regardless of how safe she felt there, how separated it seemed to be from all that they went through, all that they saw within and beyond the fortress walls, it was Varric’s room once again.  After the departure of the council, and then later Leliana she had stayed to watch the sunset from the war room.  The windows there provided a view unlike many others within Skyhold.  She had watched as the vibrant reds and oranges faded into the horizon.  Watched as the darkness erased the last vestiges of the sun’s rays and birthed tiny pinpricks of cool white light.  How she wished she could have let her feelings and emotions fade as the sunset had.  Or recreate, rebuild the barriers she had erected within her as surely as the stars blinked into existence again and again each night.  But try as she might her feelings would not be ignored.

From the war room she had visited the baths and then the kitchens for an early supper.  She had had but one thing on her mind, and it plagued her still.  What was she to do about her feelings for Varric?  She could not tell him, let him know.  That was out of the question.  And she could not hide them from herself.  If she locked them away somewhere deep inside herself she feared that they would change.  Morph into something rank and foul.  Passion could not be dampened, and she did not want to see her ardour for Varric turned bitter and corrupted, something so vile that it would touch every part of her.  But would letting her passion run wild do her any better?  If she let it kindle, smolder and burst into a golden flame with no outlet she would have no choice but to cut it out of her.  Exorcise it from her heart until there was nothing left but raw, scarred flesh.  The ache would be too great to let it rule her heart.

If she had time maybe.  If she could put space between herself and Varric, she could indulge in her one-sided fantasy from afar.  Let her feelings for him pass into memory held warmly in her heart.  But that was a dangerous game when they shared their lives so closely.  Cassandra stilled her foot which had begun tapping against the carpet at her feet.  She was anxious, her body restless, but there was nothing more to do but wait.  She pulled the blanket draped across her shoulders tighter around her and considered adding another to cover her bare legs.  It was early yet but she had changed into her nightclothes, readied for bed just to give herself something to do.  She had tried reading but her concentration was unable to stay for more than a few pages at a time.  Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, holding the air then pushing it out forcefully through pursed lips.  It was a technique they taught their archers, something to steady their breathing before taking a shot.  She repeated the action again, then again, steadying her heart rate and clearing her mind.

It was an unfortunate circumstance that she found herself in, but she was stronger than her emotions.  Or so she kept telling herself.  The Maker seemed to have plans for her that she did not understand, but her faith had seen her through hardships more trying than this.  Faith, truth and a keen awareness would be her guides for whatever lay ahead.  Cassandra picked her book up from the floor where she had dropped it earlier in frustration.  Curling her legs under her, she flipped the book open in her lap and read with a determination more suited to heading into battle.

She was so focused on her reading that she almost didn’t hear the door to the room open.  Voices trailed in from the hallway beyond, catching her attention.  “—Really, you don’t have to.”  There was a response too low for her to hear.  “And I can’t persuade you otherwise?”  Another quiet murmur.  “Alright—Alright, just thought I’d ask.  Then goodnight.”  Varric swept into the room backwards with a mock salute, kicking the door shut in the process.  He paused for a moment staring at the closed door with a sullen face, pinched in thought before turning to face the room.  She met his gaze with a neutral, passive face despite the fluttering that had risen in her stomach at the sound of his voice.  A startled look flashed across his as their eyes met, as if he hadn’t expected her to be there.  With a practiced ease it fluidly slid into his standard smirk.  He was putting on a front, she knew him well enough now to recognize how he masked his thoughts, created himself anew for public consumption.

“What is it?”  For a moment Varric looked as if he was going to deny that anything was bothering him.  But one look at her raised brow was enough for him to understand her intent, she would not relent easily.  As quickly as his facade had risen it fell again with the slump of his shoulders.

“It’s Nightingale, she’s got her goons following me.   _Escorts_ apparently, for the invalid.”  He made a sound not unlike a tsk but with more force, more vehemence, and shook his head.  “First Caspar and now her?  It’s gonna be a Maker blasted parade every time I leave a room.”  She understood his frustration.  But she would rather have a frustrated Varric over one lying injured and alone.  Leliana had given no indication that she believed her concerns about Caspar, that she had sent protection, reinforcements may have only been to ease her mind.  She would take them, whatever the reasoning.

“If you are lucky they might drive off Caspar’s men.”  The look of exasperation Varric gave her made her bristle and pull her blanket more closely around her, like a protective shield.

“Don’t think I don’t know what this is about?  Did you put her up to this?  It was an accident!  You know I would be the first to bring his Princeliness down if I could.  Maker’s Breath, it nearly hit him.  It would have been an almost impossible shot.”  He rolled his injured shoulder unconsciously as he spoke.

“Could you have made it?  The shot?”  Varric’s head tilted slightly, his eyes casting downward in thought, considering it, maybe for the first time.  

“It was an accident,” he replied with a laboured sigh and shake of his head.  Though his statement did not hold the same conviction as it had before, which made her sit a little straighter.  “Look, it’s been a long day.  I just wanna turn in.”

Cassandra complied and turned back to her book lifting it from her lap so that she could covertly watch Varric move around the room out of the corner of her eye and around the edges of the pages.  It would seem that the healers had done their job, his movement looked no more laboured than that of any man’s at the end of the day.  Though every so often he would flex his arm, as if testing his shoulder, proving to himself that the wound was of little hindrance.  Her eyes flickered back and forth from the book in her hands to Varric as he turned from her and began to undo the sash at his waist.  Just a peek, she told herself.  To make sure that the injury was in good standing of course.  He removed his tunic with only a fraction less haste than usual, and all at once she could see it.  Even in the low candlelight it stood out against his skin, the silvery white of a new scar carved into the flesh of his shoulder blade.  Reluctantly she turned her gaze back to her book, it would not do to stare.  Knowing now, that Varric was fine, and that another layer of protection stood just outside the door, needed or not allowed her to let go of some of the tension that she had been holding onto all day.  Resettling the blanket around her, Cassandra relaxed into the chair determined to put all thought of the day’s events from her mind and enjoy the rest of her evening.

“Uh...I could use a hand.”  Cassandra had to stop herself from peering over the top of her book with too much haste at the sound of Varric’s voice.  He stood, just at the edge of the bed, stripped to the waist and barefoot holding a small, stoppered glass pot.  “To ease the pain or help the healing or something…I don’t know, I wasn’t really listening I just wanted to get out of there—I can’t reach is what I mean.”  He looked uncomfortable, asking for her help.  Even for such a little thing.  She set her book down on the chair behind her as she rose, not bothering to mark her place.  She would have to start over again anyway.

The flagstone was freezing beneath her feet as she left the soft carpets that edged the fireplace.  She ushered Varric up onto the bed so that she might sit behind him rather than stand on the stone longer than necessary.  He crawled onto the mattress awkwardly, letting one leg hang over the edge.  He tracked her movements out of the corner of his eye as she joined him on the bed.  She pulled her blanket tighter under his stare, but mirrored his positioning with one leg draped over the edge, the other folded beneath it.  She had to stop herself from sitting too close.  Positioned as they were she could have easily sat flush against his body, felt the heat radiate off him as she knew it would.  Chastising herself she focused on the task at hand.  Up close the skin around the scar looked puckered and raw, too fresh for the advanced stages of the scar tissue that covered the wound.  Cassandra took the jar from Varric’s hand and eased the cork out.  The mixture inside was offwhite in colour and had a strong herbal smell.  She scooped a small amount out with her forefinger, it was cool to the touch.  Gently, as if touching a piece of paper so fragile it might turn to dust, she smoothed the cream across his shoulder.  Starting nearer the top, above the scar where freckles played across his skin.  Varric shuddered under her touch.

“It’s cold.”

“Sorry.”  She could have warned him, but all of her concentration was focused on keeping her eyes trained to the one spot of Varric’s back.  That which wasn’t focused on keeping her fingers from wandering across the tight skin of Varric’s back of course.  It would have been all too easy, excusable even for her hand to travel its way across the broad expanse of skin that Varric had granted her access to.  She felt a tightening in her own chest, and took a moment to relax her breathing.  Mimicking the slow steady breaths she felt pulse through Varric below her hand.

Scooping more cream from the jar she traced the edges of the scar with her fingertip, taking care not to aggravate the tender flesh.  The scar looked weeks old from the healing, but it did nothing to make her forget the sight of fresh blood weeping down his back.  A picture of Varric lying bleeding on the ground, in pain bloomed in her mind and it was all she could do not to storm off into the heart of the keep in search of Caspar and his men.  She wanted to throttle them, make them feel every inch the agony that she had at the thought of losing Varric.  Accident or no, it was Caspar’s fault that he had been injured.   But Varric would not have even been out there if it weren’t for her.  Would not be wrapped up in this sordid affair at all.  The thought made her breath still in her throat.  Was her conviction of Caspar mislaid guilt?

Varric shifted under her hand, and she realized belatedly that her fingers had stilled across his back.  The last traces of cream long since rubbed into his skin.  She stared at her hand pressed against him, she should remove it, but she couldn’t bring herself to.  Her eyes, then her fingers traced the scar once again.  It was _her_ fault.  He bore this mark, would bear this mark for the rest of his days because of her.

“I’m sorry.”  It was barely more than a whisper, all that she could manage with her throat caught as it was.  But it was important that it be said.

“It wasn’t that cold.”

“Varric!” she sounded pained, she felt it.  Emotion bubbled up within her, threatening to spill out.  Her fingers stopped their ministrations and curled against his back.  “You could have died, and for what?  My pride?”  It was spewing forth now, what she thought she had suppressed.  All her worry, her anger, her hurt.  “I should never have agreed to this—I should never have let _you_ agree to this!”

“Seeker—”  Varric turned his head to the side, but she couldn’t look at him.

“Stop.”  She bowed her head, her face hovering a hairsbreadth above his back next to her hand.  The new skin of the scar glinted in the shadow she had created, mocking her.  She forced herself to stare at it, be aware of what she had wrought.  “You could have died Varric.  So that I could stay here?  Is my future more important than your life?”  It was a rhetorical question, they both already knew the answer.  

She felt Varric tense underneath her hand, felt the steady rhythm of his breath falter.  “Yes.”  He spoke quietly, but with a resolute assuredness.

“...What?”  She reared back and the open jar tumbled from her leg.  Neither of them moved, nor seemed to care as it crashed onto the floor, cracking against the stone.  Surely she had misheard him, he did not mean it.  But the tension in Varric’s back was palpable, his hands gripped the covers of the bed so tightly that his knuckles had turned nearly bone white.  She saw the breath that he drew pull through him, heard it rasp through his open mouth as if it were a conscious action that required all his concentration.  

“I would take a dozen bolts if it meant that you would not suffer.  I would bear any pain for you if I could.”

“Varric?”  She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.  She had heard wrong, she must have.  Varric did not _care_ for her.  Not like that.  

“If you had gone, or...I don’t know what I would have done.  It was selfish I know, but I needed you.  Here, in my life.  I—”  Varric’s voice faltered for the first time, as if his mind had finally caught up with what he was saying.  Cassandra held her breath, not wanting even the tiniest thing to hinder her ability to hear what he had to say. “...I love you Cassandra.”

She floundered for breath, unable to make the air pass further than the back of her throat.  Varric could not love her, the world would not allow it.  To love was to anguish, that is what the world had taught her time and time again.  Unaware of her disbelief, Varric continued on.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t want to tell you like this—I didn’t want to tell you.”  His words came faster and faster, he had opened the floodgates and it seemed that he would not stop until he had dredged every last shred from within himself.  The confession flowed over her, her mind had stilled, frozen in spot.  Varric loved her.  “It’s unfair to you, I’ve been taking advantage of you, of the situation—”  Varric _loved_ her.  

Cassandra leaned forward and claimed the patch of skin that she had so carefully worked over not moments before, with a kiss.  His skin was cool against her lips, so unlike Varric.  She pressed harder, desperate to feel him, desperate for him to know, to understand that she felt the same.  She felt him shudder beneath her touch, and grow silent.  She pulled back, hovering just above his back.  “I love you Varric.”  She had not said it before, she had not even thought it.  But it felt right, to say it now.  She knew it, felt it to be true the moment the words passed her lips.  She loved Varric, and she thought her heart might burst with the knowledge of it.  “I love your honour, and your loyalty.  I love your compassion.  I love that you bring out in me that which no one else can.”  She gave a small laugh.  “Maker take me, I even love the way you work yourself under my skin.  I love you Varric.”  She felt a lightness for speaking it aloud, it passed like a prayer from her lips.  She would sing his virtues, praise his faults with her last breath if she could.  If every word spoken felt like this.

Varric had other ideas.  Before she could speak another word the broad expanse of Varric’s back fell away from her and was replaced with his face.  She had only a moment to take in the brightness of his eyes, the way his smile changed from questioning to wry before his lips claimed hers.  Tentative at first, but she responded in earnest.  Her hands crawled their way to his face, across the bare skin of his arms and chest.  Varric’s arms found their way around her waist, trapping her in the tangled confines of the blanket that had slipped from her shoulders.  It was everything and more than she had imagined.  Her senses were overwhelmed with his scent, with his heat.  She needed more.  To feel him against her solidly, without pretense or device.  Cassandra sunk into his chest, pressed herself against him so that she could feel every ridge and hard angle of his torso through the thin linen of her nightshirt.  Varric’s arms followed her, closing further around her, his hands bunched in her shirt.

His lips retreated from her mouth, pressing insistent kisses across her jaw and down her neck.  She released her hold on his head and let her hands rove across his body.  She skimmed across his skin eager to take in, eager to touch every last inch of him.  As if he had been waiting for her signal he began his own torturous discovery of her body.  His hands were suddenly everywhere, travelling across her back, supporting her neck, ghosting across her hip.  She gasped as Varric’s thumb swept up her inner thigh starting at her knee and travelling all the way up until he settled his hand boldly on her breast.  “Varric.”  His name passed her lips like the release of a breath, languid but essential.  Varric groaned in response, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure coursing through her.  It was overwhelming, her mind struggled to comprehend what had happened, what was happening.  She had only realized her feelings for Varric mere hours earlier, had spent the afternoon and evening despairing over her situation, coming to grips with what she had assumed to be her inevitable heartache.  Yet here she was holding Varric, kissing Varric, loving Varric as surely as anything she had ever known.  Varric shifted his grip down to her thighs and pulled her into his lap and she lost her whole train of thought.  She was not sad to see it go.  “Varric.  Kiss me.”  He tilted his head back and eyed her from his position at the base of her throat, he smirked and it sent shivers racing down her body.

“No need to ask me twice.”  His lips were swollen, his face flush.  Cassandra didn’t even bother to suppress the moan that built inside of her.  Varric’s kisses were more assertive this time, he bit at her lower lip seeking entry and she granted it.  From her new position in his lap she could feel the strength of his thighs pressed against hers, feel the muscle twinge as he rocked up against her unwilling to let her have the upper hand despite her height advantage.  She gave his leg a squeeze before following the seam of his breeches up to the waistband.  Varric shifted against her hand as she traced the band flush against his skin, occasional letting a finger dip below, teasing him.  The heat of everything, of the room, of Varric, it was overbearing now but she craved it, wanted to let it settle across her skin, let it burn through her from the inside out.  Cassandra sat up straight, interrupting the kiss with Varric leaving the man with a dazed and confused look upon his face.  In one swift and practiced movement Cassandra pulled her nightshirt off over her head.  She barely felt the change in the temperature across her bare skin, but her body reacted all the same.  Varric blinked once then again focus returning to his dazed face now confronted with a shocking amount of bare skin.  Her chest heaved under her laboured breathing and she suddenly felt self conscious.  A blush crept across her cheeks as she watched Varric examine her.  He didn’t hide his looks, no, he made an exaggerated show of taking everything in, every inch of her.  “Shit—I mean—”  He blew out a lazy, thin stream of air, had he taken more care it may have been a whistle.  “Seeker, you are something else.”  He pressed an openmouthed kiss to the underside of her jaw.  “Beautiful, Cassandra.  That’s what you are.”  Cassandra wove her fingers through his hair and let him drag her hands downward as he continued to lay kisses across her throat, then her chest until finally he captured her left breast with the wet heat of his mouth.  A hand found its way to her other breast and it was all she could do not to melt into the bed right there.  Varric’s name tumbled from her lips again and again until she didn’t recognize the sounds she was making.  Her stomach quaked and she felt her muscles stitch in protest.  With a hand pressed firmly against his chest Cassandra silently guided Varric back further onto the bed.  Settling a leg between his she sprawled against his prone form and relished for a moment in the way he felt beneath her.  With a deliberate rock of her thigh against his that had both of them gasping she recaptured his lips.

It was bliss.  She hadn’t felt this way in ages.  It was possible she hadn’t felt this way ever before.  If the world had crumbled around them at that very moment she may not have noticed.  She most certainly would not have cared.  Cassandra’s hands found their way to Varric’s waist, she gripped at the top of his breeches using them as ballast to pull herself hard against him.  Varric stilled under the friction, mouth agape.  She took the opportunity of his stunned silence to roll off him to the side and swiftly began unlacing his breeches.

“Wait.”  His hand covered hers, halting her motions.  “Wait,” he repeated as he closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose.  “We can’t.  I mean—fuck, I love you Cassandra.  Your strength, your beauty.  The way you get flustered when you get nervous.  The way you could rend me apart if you wanted.  And never in a million ages did I think that this would happen.  I mean, I’m still not entirely sure that I haven’t somehow changed the very laws of nature and am currently dreaming.  Then again, if this is the Fade I have seriously underestimated Chuckles.”  He smirked at her before catching himself and sitting up, removing her hand from between his legs and holding it instead in his lap.  “We can’t do this.”   

It took a moment for Varric’s speech to work its way through her lust addled mind.  Cassandra licked her lips, working the moisture back into her mouth before she responded.  “Whatever you may think Varric, you are not in fact taking advantage of anything, me or the situation.  I am perfectly willing.  More than willing, I assure you.”

“And well I’m glad to hear it, that’s not the issue and you know it.  This is.”  He raised their hands, bringing them to her eye level.  His hand engulfed hers, but she could still see what he had intended, the gold band that lay on her finger.  “If we do this, there’s no going back.  I love you Cassandra, and I agreed to this to give you a chance at a future, I won’t take that away from you now.”  She turned her head from their entwined hands, and felt the need to cross her arms over herself, cover her nakedness.

“And if this is what I want, would you grant me that?”  

“Don’t—Please don’t make the choice mine.  I want you, I want to be with you.  I’m selfish like that, always have been.”  He kissed the back of her hand.  “But you’re backed into a corner right now, and I don’t want there to be any regrets.”

She didn’t know what she wanted.  Her body was telling her one thing, of that she was sure.  Her mind however was telling her another.  The annulment weighed heavily at the back of her mind, a presence that hung over everything that they had done here.  It was what they had agreed on, sex was their only way out.  To cross that last barrier meant that they were well and truly married.  Husband and wife forever more.  She loved Varric, and he loved her and maybe marriage was a possibility for their future.  But this marriage was built on a precarious tower of falsehoods.  She scoffed.

“When did you become so sensible?  It is unnerving.”  Her lip curled into a sneer, but it faltered as a small smile broke through.  Varric reached behind her and grabbed her fallen blanket, wrapping it gently around her shoulders.  

“Me?  Sensible?  I think you’ve got the wrong man Seeker.”  As he pulled back in front of her the ends of the blanket still in his hands Cassandra captured his lips in a tender kiss.

“No.  I’ve found just the right one,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him again.  “You are right.”  A mischievous spark glinted in Varric’s eyes.  “—Though it pains me to admit it,” she added quickly.  “I would not want a marriage touched by lies.”  It was the right decision, but that that decision meant that she could not have Varric completely left her writhing.  Passion and want that had been so quickly stirred within her lay unsatisfied, unfulfilled.  She had let the rational, sensible portion of her mind have its way, why not then let her rash side continue?  Within reason.  So they could not have sex, that did not preclude them from a number of other activities.  Any number of which would be just as pleasurable, she consoled herself.

Cassandra ran the tips of her fingers lightly down Varric’s chest, trailing through his chest hair and down through the tracks of hair that dipped below his waistline.  With the lightest of touches she skimmed the crotch of his breeches, just grazing the heavy outline of him.  Varric made a guttural sound before trying to snatch at her hand, but she had already returned it to his chest and was pushing him back.

“What did we just agree on?!”

“We agreed on no _sex_ Varric.  I should not have to tell you to use your imagination, I’ve read your books.”  The look she gave him was far from innocent, it had to be as she sat before him bare chested, legs askew, eyes lidded.  Varric coughed.

“I’m pretty sure ‘sex’ was a blanket term.”

“Was it?  I don’t remember agreeing to that.”  Cassandra pulled her legs under her and sat up on her knees, letting the blanket fall off her shoulders once again.  “Would I lie to you?”  Varric watched her wide eyed.

She pretended that it was his hand as she trailed her fingers across her collarbone then down to her breast.  His was heavier, warmer, but none more rough or calloused than her own.  She rolled her nipple between her fingers and gave an audible gasp.  She glanced at Varric, he was still sat as he had been a moment before though his eyes seemed darker, his breath more centred in his upper chest.  She watched as the links of his chain danced against the movement of his breathing and ran her other hand across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.  “Let me see you Varric, let me watch you.”  She had not thought it possible but Varric’s eyes grew wider still at her request.

“You’re not seri—you don’t mean...”  With an assumed boldness Cassandra slid her hand up her thigh and traced the waist of her smalls with her fingertips before slipping her hand down the front of them.  Varric’s eyes followed the movement of her hand with rapt attention.  He sat silently and without movement for a beat and then another until he let out a shuddering breath with such force that she could see his chest deflate in the process.  “Definitely serious then.”  Yet still he did not move.

“Are you going to make me wait, my love?”  Varric caught her eye at the use of the moniker, and his mouth quirked into a familiar grin.

“Never.”  Without taking his eyes from hers Varric pulled a hand roughly across the front of his breeches before loosening the laces.  She was aching now, her own hand resting just at the top of her nest of curls, itching to explore further.  It wouldn’t take long for her to find release, not when she was already so close.  But she wanted it to last, she wanted to revel in the new sensations, experience the new possibilities of loving and being with Varric.  Not giving into the temptation, riding her thrumming desire quickly spurred by the sights and sounds of Varric laid out in front of her would be a challenge.  

Slowly Cassandra teased her fingers further down her body, they grazed against the soft linen of her smalls and she could feel the wetness, the overwhelming heat that had already begun to pool there.  Varric watched her transfixed, his own hand lazily rubbing himself through the leather of his breeches.  Removing her hand from her breast she gripped at the blanket beneath her before running her hand across her folds.  Her breath hitched at the sensation and her hand gripped tighter at the fabric in her grasp.  Maker she wished that it was Varric touching her now, she had seen the deftness, the delicacy with which he used his hands.  Were they to show the same attention to her Varric could unmake her in an instant.  Cassandra brushed her thumb against the bundle of nerves at her opening and a moan escaped her lips before she could even try to stifle it.  

“Fuck Cassandra.”  Varric slipped his hand inside his breeches, and a hiss escaped his lips.  She watched as he slowly worked himself up and down, and the ache between her legs grew.  Beads of perspiration formed on his brow, her own face felt hot, flushed, making her eyes heavy.  She parted her folds and slipped one finger in, then another.  Drawing them in and out with a slow steady rhythm to match Varric’s strokes.  His name slipped from her lips as she flicked her thumb across her clit, wracking her body with waves of pleasure.  Her legs could no longer support her and she fell back against her heels.  She was close.  Varric was too, he was struggling to maintain himself, biting the inside of his cheek as his fist worked himself slowly up and down.

The temptation to touch him was too much.  Freeing her hand from the bunched fabric in her grasp she stretched her arm across the gap between them and brushed the backs of her fingers against Varric’s free hand.  His eyes snapped to hers caught unaware by the sudden physical contact, before entwining his fingers with hers.  “My love I—”  The words died in her mouth as a sudden buzz ran through her.  The buildup of pressure within her was far too great, it wouldn’t take more than a few more strokes to push her over the edge.

“Let go Cassandra.”  Varric’s voice was practically a growl, low and gravelly.  It sent a visceral reaction coursing through her body.  She moved her fingers faster, curled them inside her and let her thumb work its way across her sensitive nub.  Varric twisted their hands and raised the back of hers to his mouth, capturing it with a single, steady kiss.  The tenderness, the care, the love which he exuded towards her pushed her over the edge.  The coursing pleasure that had been building within her came to its peak and she felt her walls spasm around her fingers, her toes curled underneath her.  She remained still, unmoving as each fresh wave of her release welled within her.  Varric followed closely after her, coming with a shudder strong enough that she felt it through their clasped hands, it was almost enough to push her past the edge again at the very thought of it.

Slowly, regretfully, she eased her fingers out of herself, ripples of her orgasm still chasing through her.  Her breathing remained shallow, an afterthought.  Varric leaned back against the bed heavily, staying upright only enough so that he could keep her hand in his.  Her body felt slack and relaxed and she could see the energy slipping from Varric’s eyes.  She let go of his hand and let him collapse fully against the mattress.  

Without the rush of adrenaline, the push of passion reality began to seep back in.  What they had done was not sex, not technically.  Was that enough?  Where was the line drawn?  Truthfully this was not a conversation she wanted to have with Mother Giselle.  Nor did she want to be thinking of her right now.  Cassandra focused on the man in front of her instead and watched as Varric tried to roll himself off the bed.  It took two tries before he could regain the necessary coordination, but eventually, slowly, his feet hit the ground.  She stretched out onto her stomach with a breathy sigh and claimed his vacated spot, soaking in the residual heat that he had left behind.  Varric crossed the short distance to the vanity by the window and cleaned himself up with water from the basin atop it.  His breeches hung low and loose on his hips, his hair had pulled itself from its tie in places, leaving him looking thoroughly dishevelled.  It was a look she wholly enjoyed, especially knowing what had caused it.  Knowing what she had done to cause it.  

Varric made his way back to the bed, divesting himself of his breeches and leaving them in a heap on the floor without another thought before handing her her own dampened cloth and settling himself nearer the head of the bed.  When she had finished he passed her her nightshirt, a little worse for wear after being tossed carelessly on the bed at the beginning of their foray.  The soft fabric of the shirt felt almost rough against her overly sensitive skin and she let it fall loose at her neck and shoulders, exposing them to the night air.  There was no need to stay covered as there had been before, not anymore.  Varric’s eyes followed her movements, his mouth quirking into a soft, lazy smile that sparked a similar reaction of her own.  She inched closer to him across the bed and came to a rest on her side next to his seated form.  Varric’s hand wandered across the blanket top until his fingers found hers.  His eyes were focused on their hands, watching as he ran the backs of his fingers in a sweeping gesture across her own, just barely touching them.  His brow creased ever so slightly.

“You don’t—you aren’t regretting anything?”  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“No!”  Her body stiffened, and raised slightly off the bed in her haste to reassure him.  “No.  Of course not,” she said again, more quietly.  “How could I my love.”  She grasped at his fingers where they played against hers and brought both of their hands up to rest against the side of his face.  The unease in his brow receded at her touch.  “I only regret that it took me this long to understand how I truly felt.”

“I should’ve gotten shot sooner, is what you’re saying,” he said with a grin.

“Do not even joke of that!”  Her body tensed again as the memories of that morning were brought to the forefront of her mind.

“Sorry—sorry.”  He leaned down and kissed her forehead.  “You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“When I thought something had happened to you I—”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy remember?  Like fungus.”  She didn’t want to laugh, it was no laughing matter but he had such a way as to ease her mind.  Frustrating man.

“I should hope not.”  She leaned her head back and pulled his face down to hers, capturing his lips.  It was a delight, an unholy pleasure to love so freely, to be loved so readily in return.  The kiss was gentle, tender in comparison to their earlier kisses.  He kissed her as if they had all the time in the world and as if there was nothing else but to be there with one another.  They parted slowly and her eyes fluttered open.  “How long have you known?”  She had not meant to pull them from the moment but the question had been eating away at her since his confession.  The way he had spoken was as if he had been harbouring these feelings for quite some time.  Varric sank down onto the bed next to her bringing one arm up behind his head, the other found her hand again.

“Hard to say, there was a significant period of uh...of denial I guess?  I mean I can talk myself out of pretty much anything so it was lust, jealousy, rage—it was a lot of things before I caved and named it what it was.”  Cassandra responded with a hum of agreement, she had shared a similar process.  “When the Inquisitor asked me to write for you though—I mean that I agreed to it at all should have been a red flag right there.  Maker I hate that series.”  She let out a small whine in protest and Varric smirked in response.  “If it had been for anyone else I wouldn’t have even bothered.  At first I was going to make it just truly awful—I mean, you know, worse than it already is, just so I could see your reaction.  But then…”  He sighed.  “I couldn’t do it.  Every time I sat down to write you were there in my mind and before I knew it I wasn’t just writing it _for_ you, I was writing it _to_ you.”  Varric found her eyes and her heart swelled with the genuineness that she saw there.  “Then I knew.”  

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Do you know that your nostrils flare when you get angry?”  She was taken aback at the sudden turn in the conversation.  “Because I do. They used to do it constantly—well, they used to do it whenever you’d look at me anyway.  How could I say something and risk you taking my head off, or worse, you probably would have thought I was making fun of you.”  He had a point.  Varric let out a huff of air.  “Then the whole marriage thing happened and I knew I couldn’t say anything.  It wouldn’t have been fair to you, and I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything.”  The heartache she had felt when she thought she would have to love him from afar, keep him at a distance, had been intense.  Yet Varric had been living with it for weeks, months.  Had she been less stubborn, more open to herself she might have spared him from such distress.  She lowered her head to his shoulder and gripped tightly at his hand, felt the strength of it pressed between their bodies.

“I’m sorry to have caused you any grief, had I known—”  Had she known would she have come to him sooner?  She may never have believed her own feelings had she been aware of Varric’s, she would have thought them influenced, the entire idea disingenuous.  Evelyn had said to her, that day on the mountaintop that she wouldn’t have believed what she’d had to say.  There was a truth in that.  She had needed the time to figure out how she felt absent from others opinions and thoughts.

“Had you known you would’ve had me hanging off the battlements till I agreed to take it back.”  Her mouth crinkled into a rueful snarl against his shoulder.  She could have protested, her response would not have been _that_ extreme.  “I tried to keep my distance, but I uh...I may have taken it a bit too far sometimes, sorry.”  She remembered the night of the banquet, how he had seemed relentless in his badgering.  “I can’t say I was always thinking straight though.  It’s been a long time since I was jealous of anyone.”  

“Jealous?”  It was an odd thought, the ever confident Varric envious of someone else.  “Jealous of who?”  Even from her poor angle she could tell that Varric looked startled at her response.

“You’re kidding right?  Caspar.”  He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.  

“Really?”

“How have—have you seriously not noticed?”  Varric was getting addled, a tension began creeping into his neck and shoulders.  “He’s been _pursuing_ you.”  The notion gave her pause, she had thought it a possibility once but had never given it much credence.

“I’m afraid I’ve been a bit distracted myself.”  She kissed his shoulder hoping to ease him, and he slowly relaxed back into the bed.  She did not want to think of Caspar, or anyone else in this moment.  There would be time for that later.  “Why now, why did you say something?”

“I probably never would’ve but I was a bit disoriented from the healing and I just...I don’t know, I felt like something was different?  When you left with the Inquisitor, then seeing you at the healers.  I mean, you my dear have never been one for bluffing so...it gave me hope?  Maybe?  And then there was the _bath._ ”  Cassandra turned her head against his shoulder hiding her face as she felt a blush begin to creep up her cheeks.  She had been out of her mind to even suggest it and the thought made her want to recoil in embarrassment.   

“Ugh.  Do not remind me.”  Her words were muffled against his side.

“You know I was thinking, we could probably get Ruffles to order one specially, just for you.  We’d  have to move the chairs a bit but—”   She couldn’t help but laugh at the enthusiasm in his voice.  “Or we could just get rid of them altogether, I mean who needs chairs when you’ve got a perfectly serviceable bed.”  He’d barely finished his thought before rolling over and trapping her against the mattress.

“You make excellent points my love.”  

“That’s a yes then?”  Varric raised any eyebrow.  She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face down, his lips hovering just above hers.

“That is a yes, please.”

\----

Cassandra slowly pulled from sleep, aware of the night that still blanketed the room around her.  Shifting the covers around her she reached for Varric at her side, a lazy smile gracing her lips as the memories of the hours previous flitted into her head.  It had felt like a dream, a ridiculous, magnificent dream.  She loved Varric and he loved her.  She wanted to wake Varric and relive the past few hours, but she also wanted to sleep and let the new day dawn.  A day in which they had no fear of Caspar and his men.  A day where living as husband and wife would no longer be a burden but an exciting enterprise.  Varric wheezed in the dark next to her and she could not even bring herself to muster any irritation at his snoring.  Let him snore tonight and forever more if it meant that she could share it with him.  

Cassandra shifted over in the dark and laid against Varric’s side resting her head on his chest.  Varric wheezed again and Cassandra stilled, listening.  There was a harshness in his breath, a rasping quality that was unfamiliar to her.  She laid a hand on his chest, above his heart and felt the thrum of his pulse.  It pattered hastily, with an irregular beat.  She sat up quickly and moved her hand to Varric’s face, searching for his forehead in the dark.  His skin was scorching beneath her touch, and sweat coursed down his temples.

“Varric?”  He did not stir, and an icy grip clamped around her insides.  “Varric!” she said, louder this time.  She shook his shoulder when there was no response.  The movement was enough to rouse him and Varric came to with a grating cough.  She tried to pull Varric into a sitting position, but he did not have the strength to keep himself upright and he collapsed against her.  Chest to chest she felt every one of Varric’s laboured breaths and her own stilled in panic.  Cradled in her arms, Varric let out another hacking cough and something wet spattered across her face.  Apprehensively she touched the droplets on her skin, they were warm and slick.  Cassandra hesitated momentarily before bringing her fingers to her nose, afraid of what she might find.  What coated her fingertips was sharp and acrid, her stomach dropped and her heart pounded against her chest.  There was no mistaking it, the smell was as familiar to her as the sickly sweet stench of death and decay, and just about as pleasant.  Blood.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you guys thought the last cliffhanger was bad :)
> 
> But for reals this chapter almost broke me, it put me back almost two months and pushed be squarely out of my comfort zone. I don't think I would have gotten through it without all of your encouragement, so thanks everyone.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting a little earlier than normal as my holiday gift to all of you, and not at all because I have a party to go to and probably won't have access to wifi...
> 
> But for reals, this chapter is kinda a downer so this is a heads up, maybe put it off if you don't want to be sad tonight.
> 
> Happy Holidays!

Despite the late hour Varric’s room was as bright as a noonday sun and as busy as the Herald’s Rest on any given night.  Mages filtered in and out of the small space doing who knows what, she could barely concentrate on their presence at all let alone their actions.  Something was wrong with Varric, gravely wrong, and the healers had yet to determine what that was.  Cassandra turned her back to the room and rested her hands across the mantle of the fireplace for support as a fresh wave of worry roiled through her stomach.  She felt useless, helpless in this situation.  Unable to contribute any of her skills, her sword was of no use here.  But she felt the need to do something, anything to aid Varric.  To see him in the light now was to know at a glance that something was not right.  He was pale, his skin pulled taut across his skull.  Stretched so tight as to bare his teeth.  His skin was still scorching to the touch but he seemed to have stopped sweating.  She did not know if that was a good sign or bad.  The coughing had subsided but only because he had lost consciousness again, instead without warning his body would constrict, convulse against the sheets in painful rigor.  The first time it had happened as she had waited for the guards to fetch the healers she had thought him taken from her.  In a split second she had known an agony that was all too familiar to her.  Images of her lost loved ones had flashed through her head and she had stared at Varric’s body twisted and contorted against the stark white sheets of the bed unwillingly to add his visage to the list.  The thought made her nose burn with a stinging persistence and for once she did nothing to stem the flows of hot wet tears that formed in her eyes.  She let them blind her vision momentarily before wiping them away with the back of her hand.

Cassandra took a moment to steady her breathing and regain a small amount of composure though surely no one in the room expected it of her, before turning back around.  The healers had all centred on the bed now and were trying their best to hoist Varric’s heavy form up.  She watched for a moment more, unsure of whether she should step in or not, with this she could help.  A young mage lost her grip on Varric’s bicep, letting one side of him jerk back.  His unsupported head snapped violently backwards and in an instant she had crossed the room, taking the young mage’s place and easily lifting Varric’s slumped form up from the bed.  She held him not unlike she had earlier, cradled in her arms but now his forehead rested against her shoulder.  Cassandra carded a hand through his tangled locks, his hair tie lost somewhere in the twisted folds of the sheets.  His hair was limp and damp from sweat but she caressed it all the same, remembering the silky feel of it as she had buried her hands in it for the first time only hours before.  Through the thin linen of her nightshirt she could feel the overheated temperature of his skin, the slickness of the sweat that still covered his body but there was a slackness to him that had not been there before.  It frightened her more than anything else.  Varric was vibrant, she had never known him to be anything less than thriving.  

An older woman stepped up behind Varric and placed a hand on his back.  She leaned in close and prodded the new scar tissue on his shoulder.  Cassandra recognized her now as the same woman who had shooed them from the healers the day before.  Her face was just as stern as it had been then but there was a creasing at her eyes, a pursing of her lips that broke through the confidence that she had exuded before.  The healer leaned back again, straightening to her full height and looking her square in the eye.

“Hold him still,” she said as she extended her palm to one of the younger mages.  A small silver blade was placed in her hand, short and sturdy.  Cassandra wanted to protest, she couldn’t imagine what they would need a knife for but the look the older healer gave her stopped her from commenting.  She tightened her grip on Varric, sinking her fingers into his flesh and watched as the healer cut into the newly healed scar with short, precise cuts.  Cassandra smelled it before she saw it, a rank, putrid smell that coated the inside of her nose and mouth like fetid oil.  It tasted foul and unnatural.  Blood, curdled and blackened seeped out of the opened wound and oozed sluggishly down Varric’s back.  The healer used the blade of knife to scrape some of the blood off his back and raised it to her nose.  Her nose twitched almost imperceptibly at the scent, rank as it was, and her mouth set itself into a grim line.  “Lay him on his side, take care not to touch the wound.”

Cassandra followed the orders given her, maneuvering Varric’s form as gently as possible and leaving him on his side the wound facing the expanse of the room.  The healers huddled around each other and talked in shallow whispers behind her as she supported Varric’s body with pillows and blankets so that he would not roll forward.  The hairs on the back of her neck were standing up now, her whole body on alert.  Whatever they had found was not good, possibly even unexpected.  The blood from the wound had coagulated against his back, stopped short of running across his skin instead sitting unnaturally in dark thick beads.  The whispering behind her stalled and she stilled her movements as well, waiting.

“Seeker Pentaghast.”  Cassandra turned to look at the healer but stayed resting against the mattress one hand on Varric’s side, solid, like an anchor.  “I suspect you are not one to be coddled and so I will be blunt, Master Tethras’s prognosis is not good.”  Cassandra’s grip on Varric tightened, her other hand clenching into a fist that saw her nails digging into her skin.  “I suspect that he has been poisoned, with what I cannot say.  Yet.  There are tests that we can run but they will take time, time I do not believe he has.”  She might have appreciated the healers straightforward manner had her mind not begun to reel.  Poison.  Then the _accident_ had been no accident at all, but a deliberate attempt on Varric’s life.  She could feel the worry within her slide deeper inside, present and constant but now superseded by a developing rage and fury.  She felt no vindication in being proven right about Caspar only guilt and regret that she had not been able to convince anyone else of it sooner.  Had she said something, done something maybe, just maybe she could have prevented this.

“The bolt?”  She had to be sure, set her rashness to the side for just one moment more.

“It seems a likely conclusion.  Now Seeker—”  Whatever else the woman had to say was utterly unimportant in her mind.  Caspar was responsible for Varric’s condition and Caspar would be the one to fix it, she would see to that.  Personally.  The healers scattered like frightened animals as she all but leapt from the bed.  The older woman was saying something to her but she let the words pass over her, her mind focused on but one thing.  Cassandra belted her sword and scabbard over the excess of fabric from her nightshirt that she had hastily stuffed into her breeches earlier, and rushed out the open door just short of a run.  

\----

The halls were barren at this time of night, Cassandra stalked through them trailed only by the sound of her boot heels striking the stone floor.  She raged, practically frothing at the mouth and boiling inside.  There would be no use trying to ignore it now, she had spent the last month tempering her emotions, keeping her instincts in check but not tonight.  Her blood rang hot and loud in her ears, her vision focused a necessary amplification of her senses, an acute awareness that filled her with adrenaline, drive, determination.  With one hand on the hilt she loosened her sword from its scabbard, flexing her fingers her hand eager to feel the familiar cold steel.

Caspar was staying in quarters second only to the Inquisitor, a minor compound in comparison to what was used by most.  They had been there once, herself and Varric, for a private audience with the Prince.  The rooms they had seen were lavish, made more so by the oddities supplied by Caspar himself.  Relics of ages past, symbols of wealth and prestige to a even an untrained eye.  Though hers was, as much as she hated to admit it, one could not always escape their past and familial pride ran strong in Nevarra.  Knowledge of one's lineage, heritage, their _pedigree_ was imparted even at a young age.  It had been an obvious act of intimidation, for Varric, not herself.  It had backfired spectacularly.  She had no time for opulence, and excesses.  Varric on the other hand, well he was a man born to it.  He had looked every inch the patrician surrounded by the finery, as if taking his natural place.  Completely unperturbed by Caspar’s tactics.  They had not been invited back.  Cassandra pushed the errant memory deep into the recesses of her mind.  She needed no distractions, and the thought of Varric lying helpless back in their room was more than distraction enough.  It would consume her if she let it.  She wanted to be there, by his side.  What if he awoke and she was not there?  What if he di—no she could not even think it, there was still time.  There had to be.

The door to Caspar’s rooms sat singularily at the end of a hall, there was no stumbling across it unintentionally it had been made to be defended, and it was.  Two of Caspar’s men stood before the door with a casual alertness, they did not seem surprised to see her there stalking towards them in the middle of the night.  She was expecting a fight, two on one in a confined space, not ideal but not a problem.  Before she could pull her sword from its sheath the guards opened the door and retook their posts on either side.  Then she was expected.  Cassandra slowed her pace only for a moment eyeing the guards as she passed through them and into the room beyond.  

The antechamber beyond the front door was no larger than Varric’s room, and it held a similar feel.  A lushness meant to be inviting.  A large fire crackled in the granite fireplace and was the only source of light provided.  It reached almost all corners of the room, though the farthest reaches lay shrouded in shadows cast by high-backed chairs and small tables.  Bookcases lined the walls though they lay bare of their intended purpose.  In fact the only book in the room lay open on a low table next to the fire, a large tome with thin nearly translucent pages each encasing a separate dried plant or flower.  Cassandra crossed the room, past the fireplace and the open book and headed for one of two other doors in the room.  She pulled on the handle of the leftmost door roughly, but it didn’t budge.  She was getting impatient now, she did not have time for this.  Varric did not have time for this.  She reached the second door in barely more than a stride pulling on the handle with the same force as the last.  Locked.  Cassandra kicked the door, she would not play this game.

“Caspar!”  Her fists rained down on the wood with a thundering rally. “You will face me!”  She gave the door a final kick before stepping back, her breath heavy with exertion and adrenaline.  The door to her left unlatched and swung open into the room and two men stepped through.  Caspar and the man she knew to be Mayden, the one who had wielded the crossbow that had shot Varric, entered into the room with an ease that did nothing but rile her further.  If Caspar thought that the presence of his men would deter her from laying hands on his person he was sorely mistaken.  Cassandra wheeled around from her position in front of the other door and used the momentum to send her fist flying into Mayden’s face.  He was a tall man, taller than herself and Caspar, with a lean build and her punch sent him staggering back into an empty bookshelf.  Caspar simply took a step back, letting Mayden’s body stumble past him with nothing more than a raised eyebrow.

“I did warn him.”  

“Do not think that that will satisfy me.”  Cassandra rounded on Caspar and grabbed the man’s tunic with both hands, bringing him face to face with her.  “Fix it.”  She punctuated the words sharply, baring her teeth with a snarl.

“Gladly, Lady Cassandra.”  He gave her a knowing smile.  The flickering shadows cast by the fire caused it to shift and change before her into something more devious, something far more suited to him in her opinion.  He had the upperhand and he knew it.  Her fists were clenched around his clothes and she was far stronger than him, at a whim she could cut him down if it suited her.  But Caspar’s tendrils were wrapped around Varric just as fiercely.

Pain rocketed through her head and sent her vision reeling.  She let go of Caspar and staggered blindly back.  Cassandra worked her jaw and blinked away the spots in her vision.  Apparently Mayden was made of sturdier stuff than he seemed, he had recovered quicker than she had thought he would.  A foolish mistake, and one that she would not make again.  She rotated her jaw again, the pain was already lessening, nothing broken.  She licked her lips and tasted blood.  A bruised jaw and a cracked lip she deserved more for her own lack of awareness.

“Really Mayden, that was quite unnecessary.”  Caspar straightened out his clothes and crossed the room to one of the chairs in front of the fireplace leaving Cassandra and Mayden facing one another.  They both stood ready now, and she watched as he flexed his fingers before reforming a fist.  Her nostrils flared as she took in a deep breath, her mouth set grim and fixated on the man before her.  “Come now you two, there will be time for that later.  Or do I need to remind you Lady Cassandra that the clock is ticking.”

Cassandra’s eyes flickered between the two men in the room.  Caspar was right, there was no time for this, though she would see that Mayden received all that he deserved for the part that he had played.  Warily she crossed behind Caspar’s seated form and took a position across from him with the fireplace at her back.  Caspar gestured to the chair next to her, but she remained as she was, immovable.  He showed only a brief annoyance at her unwillingness to acquiesce before returning to his usual affable nature.  “You may begin.”

“I may—”  She ground her teeth together and tried to rein herself in at the indignity of it all.  Varric’s life hung in the balance and Caspar was playing court.  She would capitulate when necessary, if it meant that she got the information that she needed.  “What did you do to Varric?”

“Truly?  I thought it rather obvious, you are here after all.”

“The poison—what did you poison him with?”

“Oh excellent, I thought I might have to guide you through it.  Glad to see we’re on the same page.”  She could not suppress the growl that built in her throat.  “Now now, there’s no need for that I’ll tell you what you want to know.  Mostly.”  Caspar crossed his legs and made a show of readjusting his tunic.  Cassandra bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from lashing out.  “The poison is inconsequential.”  He trailed a hand lightly across of the pages of the open book at his side.  “A personal design that will take weeks to reverse.  The dwarf will be dead in hours.”

“If you made this then you must know a cure—a way to fix it!”  There was no need for her raised volume in such an enclosed space but restraint was beyond her at the moment.  Caspar raised a hand to silence her, a small smile played at the corner of his lips.

“You know I had thought your uncle a liar, as well as archaic, but it seems he was right after all.   _Wild_.”  Caspar watched her closely, waiting for her to give into her rage, her fury.  Self-control took almost all of her concentration.  When it became apparent that she would not give into his assumptions he continued.  “I will give you the antidote on one condition.”

“Name it.”  

“Marry me.”  Cassandra scoffed.

“I am already married.”

“Do not think me a fool Lady Cassandra!”  Caspar’s face contorted in a flash of fury baring his true emotional state.  “I have watched you for weeks now.  Did you think you were convincing?  Did you think I would not listen to idle chatter, common gossip?  You could not have picked a person more ill suited to your cause if you had tried.  You play at it better than you did in the beginning, but you have played long enough.  End it now, or the dwarf dies.”

“It is not possible.”

“Of course it is, you honestly expect me to believe that you do not have a way out?  That you would lash yourself to a man you despise without some means of escape.  No.  You are smarter than that.”

“Yet your bargaining chip is the life of this man that by your own words, I despise.”

“A gamble.  Yet here you are.”  Cassandra stilled, he had played her, let her show her hand in order to bolster his.  His plan could not have worked if she had not shown that she was willing to put everything on the line for Varric.  And she had done precisely that, storming in here in the middle of the night all fire and brimstone.  All this time they had thought their most present threat was to the legitimacy of their marriage but Caspar had bypassed that completely.  Why risk a battle that could be lost when you could forge one you were guaranteed to win?  He didn’t need to prove that their marriage was a sham, there were other, more surer ways to end it.

“Why not just kill him, you could have forced me all the same.”

“You’re right, it would have been far easier, but I do not delight in killing Lady Cassandra.  I’m not barbaric.  But I have waited long enough for you to give up this farce, I’ve given you ample opportunities to abandon it and come to my side.  But you are frustratingly obstinate, and your current marriage stands in the way of my plans for Nevarra it’s as simple as that.  One man’s life in exchange for the future of Nevarra will not vex me for long.  The outcome tonight will be the same no matter what, we will be married but you may choose the path we take.”

She had already chosen, how could she have not.  Varric’s life for her hand, there was no question.  Varric had already shown to her that he felt his personal well-being secondary to hers, how could she not return in same?  Even if Varric did not love her, even is she did not love him she would never have let his life hang so precariously for the sake of her own.  Had she agreed to Caspar’s marriage in the beginning all of this could have been avoided.  Yet she would never have known her feelings for Varric or his for her.  The rage that filled her, the worry that consumed her washed away and she was left with a singular ache in her heart.  Loss, that she had known intimately her whole life, returned to her again.  It was painful in a way that shook her to her very core, but she would endure, she would persevere knowing that in spite of it, Varric would be safe.

“I...will do it.”  

“Excellent!” Caspar clapped his hands together, a grin plastering his face.  “Mayden, the paperwork.”  From inside his coat Mayden pulled a folded document several pages thick, a bit crinkled from the man’s earlier tumble.  Without taking his eyes off her Mayden crossed in front of Caspar and placed the papers on the table nearest her, he stood unnervingly close and she could see the faint traces of a bruise forming below his eye.  She suspected her cheek looked much the same.  Not backing down she remained where she was almost toe to toe with the man.

“What is this?”

“A declaration of nullity, you need to sign it.”  Caspar snapped his fingers quickly and Mayden flipped through the document to the last page that bore two barren lines awaiting signatures.  Mayden encroached on her space again, this time just skirting physical contact and opened the drawer within the table pulling out a quill and ink.  “You can read it if you like...if you think there’s time.”  Cassandra stared at the page, at the two blank lines.  One for her, one for Varric.  How prosaic, how uninspiring that in truth a marriage was merely a slip of paper.  Some ink scrawled on a page easily lost or damaged.  Love was so much more than that, more than formality, more than declaration.  What was in her heart could not be erased by the scrawl of a hand, would not be undone once her signature lay emblazoned before her.  That made it no easier to do however, in all honesty.  ‘We are more than a piece of paper,’ Varric had said that to her what felt like ages ago now.  As she took the quill in her hand, her elbow brushing against Mayden’s towering form, she felt her heart stutter.  An additional tremor added to the already tremendous ache that lay there.   _More than a piece of paper_.  Varric’s words echoed in her mind, repeated over and over.  In a tight, practised script she signed her name, and dissolved in part her marriage to Varric.

\----

“Out.”  It was the first word she had heard Mayden say all night.  His voice bellowed in the small confines of Varric’s room.  The healers stared at him, at the Prince, at her, in turn.  She gave them a shallow nod and they filed out of the room casting questioning glances at their party.  The elder healer,  Cassandra regretted that she still did not know her name for all the work she had done, stopped in front of Mayden.  Just for a moment, enough time to look the man up and down before giving him a wildly disdainful stare and continuing on with the others out of the room.

She wanted to rush to Varric’s side.  They had not moved him from his earlier position but even from just inside the doorway she could tell that his body held even less life than it had before.  Only the pillows and blankets on the other side of him kept him upright, his arms hanging limp, heavy and useless.  Caspar covered his mouth with his hand, his nose crinkling in disgust.  The putrid smell from Varric’s wound now filled the room, hung in the air attaching itself to every breath.  “Get what we came for,” he said through threaded fingers.  Mayden handed her the nullity document apparently as unwilling to get any closer to Varric as Caspar.  

Cassandra held the papers tight in her hand and crossed the room to the bed, kneeling gently against the mattress so as not to disturb Varric.  Had she not had an audience she would have taken him in her arms again.  The urge to hold him, to touch him, was overwhelming.  By morning she would be married to Caspar and she would be on her way back to Nevarra, this could be the last time she ever saw Varric.  It was a reality she was not ready to face, one that still seemed like a distant thought on the horizon unrealized, unthinkable.  Cassandra placed a hand lightly on Varric’s side.  Burn Caspar!  Maker take him!  She did not want to remember Varric like this, devoid of everything she knew him to be but if this was all she was granted she would memorize every detail.

It guilted her that taking this time, that these few fleeting moments with him meant that he was in pain longer than necessary.  But she was sure that Varric would have granted her this leniency.  The tautness in his face had receded though he did not look in peace.  The healers had purged the wound and it no longer weeped, but the smell it exuded told her that what lay inside him ran deep.  Deeper than the shallow cut on his back.  His chest barely moved with the force of breath, the stillness was frightening.  He could have been asleep though she suspected he was still unconscious.  How he was supposed to sign anything she did not know, she had voiced these concerns to Caspar but he had been undeterred.  It was enough, it seemed, that the quill merely graced Varric’s fingers.

Cassandra spread the papers out against the sheets.  Her signature mocked her in its boldness, with the surety of her strokes.  She had hoped to spot a shakiness, an agitation that would prove her unwillingness.  But she had been resolved, determined for the sake of Varric’s life and her hand had been steady.  She had not thought to bring the quill she had used with her and now she was faced with taking one from Varric’s personal supply.  What words would it have written before this, before its inky flows put an end to their union?  Had they written letters of hope and promise to the denizens of Kirkwall?  Or witty correspondence to his friends across Thedas?  She wished there was some way that she could tell, that there was a possibility that the quill Varric was about to use may have penned any of his works, _The Tale of the Champion_ , which had been the reason they met or worse still _Swords & Shields _ which had sparked their long journey towards one another was a devastating thought.  When had she become such a sentimentalist?  She picked a quill at random, not one from the desk which had surely been used in recent days, but one from the stash he kept in wait for when he was struck by just the right thought, the newest idea and writing could not wait for anything.  It was silly, it was trivial in the end, but she vowed to destroy the quill once it had been used for its purpose.

Inking the quill sparsely so that it did not drip across the floor or the bed she returned to Varric’s side on the mattress the pages of the nullity contract waiting readily for his signature.  It was an awkward juggle, controlling Varric’s limp but pliable hand around the quill while holding the page against his side for stability.  It reminded her of the night they had been married when Varric had been so keenly aware of her trepidation, when he had silently guided her with gentle holds.  And here she was in such a similar manner dismissing what they had done there.  Cassandra wrapped Varric’s thick fingers around the quill and her own fingers around his.  It felt such a betrayal using him in such a way even if it was to save his life.  He would wake and she would be gone.  He would wake and their marriage would be over, not just over but as if it had never happened.  But he would wake.  Her hand did shake this time as she used it to sign an x, barely recognizable in its form against the paper.  The lines wavered and skipped across the page a sharp contrast to her own neat hand beside it.

It was done.

Her body hid their hands from the rest of the room.  Caspar could not see the document, could not see that it was complete that his mission was accomplished and they held no more reason to be here in this room any longer.  Cassandra moved the page to the bed on the opposite side of Varric keeping it hidden so that she could feign her actions a few moments longer, extend her time with Varric just a little more.  It had barely been a month, a few weeks that stood out in aberration from the rest of her life yet they represented so much more.  The hope of love, of romance and passion had propelled her through life though she was unlikely to admit it.  Love had meant many things to her, had been many things to her always different always changing.  And here in the most unlikely of places, with the most unlikely of people she had found love again.  She had been ready to rid herself of childish pursuits, of flights of fancy she had thought herself too old to continue yearning after.  She had resolved to cut herself off from emotion that would likely never bring her joy again and in the process had almost missed what would certainly be the last great love of her life.  Varric Tethras was a unique man, an acquired taste for many, herself included.  Andraste herself could not have convinced her that the man she had met years ago, on a truly unremarkable night in Kirkwall, would change her life completely.  He had been a job.  A task set forth by Divine Justinia.  He became a responsibility, her responsibility.  Then a begrudging ally, a constant tension between her shoulder blades.  They had never truly made it to friends, not in a sense that wasn’t tinged by something else, something more.  Thrown together as they had been their tumultuous relationship progressed unlike any other she had had.  And now he lay he before her, the single most important person in her life and in a few hours she would never see him again.

In her darkest times memories had always served enough but this time she wanted something real, something solid, something of his that she could cherish.  Cassandra leaned carefully over Varric’s body and sought his left hand which lay under a thick mountain of pillows and blankets.  His arm was heavy but put up no resistance as she pulled it from under the pile of linens.  Their wedding bands were nearly identical, though his was larger, too large for any of her fingers.  She would not have been able to wear it on her hand regardless, no, a chain to hide it away against her breast would be necessary.  The ring did not come away easily, Varric’s fingers were swollen from the heat his body had expressed but she was able to ease it off and palm it into her hand.  Her own came off with much more ease though she despised the feel of the cold metal sliding down her finger.  Missed the solid weight instantly.  Just as Varric’s ring was too large for her, hers was far too small for him.  It only fit his smallest finger and that just barely, but she placed it with care all the same.  She could have just kept her own, they held the same significance, but she wanted something that was his and only his.  Let him look upon her ring and remember her as surely as she would feel his against her skin and think of him.

“Are you quite done?”  Caspar’s muffled voice brought her back to reality, and out of her sentimental haze.  Cassandra leaned back, towering over Varric’s body once again and gathered up the papers strewn against the mattress, hers eyes purposefully avoiding the signed paper stuffed at the bottom of the pile.  She nodded in ascent to Caspar’s question and Mayden was at her side to collect the papers.  His eyes flickered over the signatures before handing the document in its entirety to Caspar.  “Shall we then?”  Cassandra didn’t move.

“The cure?”

“Not until we are married.”  She let out a frustrated snarl and Caspar rolled his eyes in response before sweeping out of the room.  Mayden followed him but not before giving her a practiced glare.  She watched the two men retreat from the room before turning back around to face Varric again.  She didn’t have much time, she was surprised that they had left her alone with him at all, she would not waste the opportunity.  Cupping Varric’s jaw Cassandra placed a kiss to his forehead.  She could taste the salt of his sweat, feel the heat of his brow.  She reveled in it every feeling, every sensation.  It was unlikely that Varric would be aware of this night at all once he had come to again, but she hoped that he would remember this and so she put all that she could into her kiss.  Let it be the last thing he remembered of her.  Her lips left his skin and she hovered above him, eyes closed, holding onto it before it became nothing more than memory.  There was a rustling behind her and she shot up, breath caught in her throat.  The elder healer stood just inside the door, her form blocking all other entry and Cassandra’s chest deflated again.

“It seems you must go.”  She nodded mutely in response, and slowly, unwillingly rose from the bed.  Her steps were heavy as she crossed the room, quill clutched tightly in one hand, Varric’s ring in the other.  “I could not help but...overhear.  Is there anything you would like me to tell him...when he wakes?”  She thought for a moment. What was there to say that could be said in a few words?  It would takes pages, entire tomes to express herself to him, what he meant to her, what their time together had been for her, why she had done what she had done.

“Tell him…”  She was not a wordsmith as he was, he could surely have conveyed all that he wanted to in a few short words, and so she took from his lead.  “...Through hardships and happiness.”  The words had never felt so onerous, had never been used between them with such earnestness, such necessity.  Would he remember when he had said those words to her, as a peace offering, a hand extended between them?  Of course he would, she had not known him to forget anything.  They would stand now as a bridge between them, unbreakable against whatever was to come.  The healer stared at her a moment longer before bowing her head in a dignified nod and stepping back through the door, letting her pass.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Cassandra crossed her arms across her chest and tried to keep herself from shivering.  Had her mind been able to think more than a few steps ahead she would have grabbed a few more clothes from her room before leaving it, but she had not and now she faced the cold winter’s night in nothing more than her thin night shirt and leather breeches.  The thick walls of the Chantry chapel held much of the cold out but the temperature was too far gone for them to be of much use.  Without any torches or braziers burning thin layers of ice crystals had begun to creep up the stone walls around the windows and doors.  Even Caspar looked uncomfortable wrapped in his heavy woolens.  But he was a man propelled by appearances.  Just as with Varric’s signature, he wanted the ceremony to be as authentic as possible.  It had to be in the chapel, he’d insisted as they’d waded through the layers of packed snow that still covered the grounds.

This was supposed to be her place of strength.  It was where she came when she needed guidance, when she was faced with unsurities, difficult decisions, hardships.  She was faced with all of those now, but this place would not grant her salvation.  Not tonight.  Mayden was slowly lighting torches but she would have prefered the room to remain dark, she did not want to see the familiar surroundings as she agreed to marry Caspar.  As she unwittingly pledged the rest of her life to his.  This man, and she could barely call him that, who manipulated, schemed, shaped the world to suit himself had plans for her, he must have.  His dogged persistence had to be for more than perceived social status, more than just a name.   

“Why?”  Caspar gave her a questioning look though she could only see a portion of his face covered as it was by his hooded cloak and thick scarf.  “Why me?  If it was just the name you wanted there are dozens of other Pentaghasts, 77 in fact more powerful than I.”

“And none with your connections or social worth.  Did you think all rebels such as your parents were quelled?  You stand for something.  You are a Pentaghast, uniquely successful despite Markus’s intentions.  Every breath you take is in defiance of Nevarra’s entire ruling system.  You may have turned your back on your country but there are those who have followed your every step.  Those who will not accept me for my bloodright will accept you.

“Then I am to be a figurehead, to trap the people who would bring change to Nevarra in the exact same system they would see destroyed?”

“Yes and no.  I have not lied to you Lady Cassandra, I do want change for Nevarra.  But I cannot change anything without power, and I cannot gain that power without the confidence of the people.  Let those who would see Nevarra remain as it has always been see that in me, and let those who seek change see it in you.  Is that not what you want?  Change?”  What did he care about her wants?  To see Nevarra changed by this man would be to see no change at all.  Caspar thought himself above the system, a man unlike those who had ruled before him.  But he was the same, exactly the same, his methods had proved it so.

“And when you have gained what you want, then what?  Am I to be left to rot in some tower, or will you poison me as well?”

“Change takes time Lady Cassandra, I am a patient man and I intend build a legacy.”  Cassandra stilled, he did not mean—“You are admittedly, and do forgive my indelicacy, rather past your prime.  But I have been assured by practitioners that an heir is not entirely out of the question.”  She could taste bile in the back of her throat, rising hot and fast.  She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stop herself from being sick across the flagstone.  To be paraded about, used as a false symbol for her countrymen that like her parents had refused to obey a corrupt and outdated system was trying enough.  But to bear this man a child.  An innocent to be used in his schemes.  She swallowed thickly, and the extra saliva that had begun to coat her mouth rolled in quickly again.  “Of course there is Vestalus’s fortune as well.  Can’t let anything happen to his only heir until he has passed.  Though I doubt that will be long,” he said with a casual wave of his hand.  It was too much, the indifference he had to her life, to the lives of others, the ease with which the manipulations rolled off his tongue.  She was a pawn in his great game, and she was helpless to stop it.  Cassandra pushed past Caspar and forced her way back outside the Chantry door.  She did not make it far before dropping her hands to her knees and emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pristine snow.  

She spit onto the ground, trying to clear her mouth of the acidic taste and took a deep breath of fresh air.  She unfolded herself slowly, her body quavering from the exertion and wiped the back of her hand across her lips.  Arms wrapped around her from behind, pressing her wrist into her bruised cheek, sending sparks of pain shooting straight to her head.  Mayden dragged her backwards, her feet skidding against the snow and ice unable to find purchase.  She struggled against his hold, using her free arm to try and break his grasp.   She delivered an elbow to his stomach and swung her head back, catching his chin.  She heard him grunt, and his grip loosened enough that she was able to push away from him.  She wouldn’t run, she could not, not with Varric still laying in the castle inching ever closer to death.  But that did not mean she had to accept his manhandling with impunity.  

“Keep your hands off me,” she growled before spitting in the snow at his feet.  A mixture of saliva, bile and blood from the cut on her lip that had reopened in their struggle.  She gave him no time to react and stalked heavily past him, back into the Chantry.  Caspar was waiting for her inside with his arms crossed, and an aggravated curl to his mouth.

“Are you quite finished?”  He turned his back to her and moved further into the chapel towards the apse.  “I will not stand for this insolence once we are married.  I appreciate your candor, and your strategic mind but do not think that any of the power that I shall wield as King will be available to you.”  He turned back around to face her having traversed the main aisle and come to a stop in front of the altar below an aged statue of Andraste.  “Had you come willingly I may have been easier on you, whatever happens now is of your own doing.”

Had she come willingly?  Had she not already been sick she may have been again at the thought.  Did he think her simple?  Some flighty, petty chit that could see nothing beyond opportunity?  He’d misjudged her greatly if he thought a few charming words would be enough to sway her, if he thought that she would not oppose him in every way in the future.  She kept her eyes trained on the crumbling visage of Andraste as she made her way up the aisle.  It felt so different from when she’d made the journey nearly a month before with Varric.  She had felt just as sick then, just as nauseated at the uncertainty of her future.  But when she had walked these steps it had been with Varric at her side, as much as she had despised the prospect of marrying him at least they had entered into it as equals.  This would not be a marriage of equals, Caspar had made that quite clear.  She was to be a placeholder, a Queen in name and nothing else.  The wide-eyed gaze of Andraste stared back at her, unwavering, unmoving.  She could count on one hand the amount of times that she had questioned her faith, doubted the path that the Maker had set her on.  But he had never failed her before.  Her life had been difficult, trying, but he had always had a reason before.  She had no other choice but to trust in her faith, trust that this was what was needed of her.

She stopped directly in front of Caspar and stared above his head into the face of Andraste, and saw there a glimmer of something.  It was not hope, she was not so blinded in her faith, no it was conviction, determination.  Let Caspar think she came before him meek and obedient for the sake of Varric’s life, but he would face the true wrath of her willfulness once they were married.  Her fate was sealed but that did not mean the lives of thousands of Nevarrans had to be.  She was backed into a corner, but that was when wild animals were their most dangerous.

Cassandra took the final step up onto the raised platform which held the altar and stood next to Caspar, looking him directly in the eye.  Her gaze fierce, undeterred.  She had thought the chapel, her place of strength ruined by his actions, but he had unintentionally given her the confidence she needed, the determination to face him head on and make him regret ever stepping foot in Skyhold.  Caspar nearly took a step back, unsure of how to read the change in her demeanor.  He glanced to his left, searching for Mayden.  His henchmen, and she could think of no more apt description, lumbered towards them down the aisle.  He passed behind her close enough that his shoulder checked hers, she would have pitched forward had she not been expecting something of the like.  Mayden stopped between them, his back to the altar, the position reserved for the officiant, the Revered Mother.  

Caspar regained his composure, his usual easy air bordering on disdainful as he watched her fix Mayden with a hostile glare.

“It’s a remarkable thing, an ailing King, truly.  They will sign just about anything in the name of country, and duty.  No, no need for a Revered Mother, Mayden is perfectly qualified.  In fact all of my men are.  Just in case of course.”  She couldn’t even bring herself to be surprised at his cavalier treatment of the Chantry, his appalling arrogance that he could bend ages of tradition to his whim.

“The Chantry will never accept that,” she scoffed.

“They will in Nevarra if they know what’s good for them, and that’s all I need.”  It was not the first time a country had chosen to pervert the very nature of the Chantry.  Unfortunately there was precedent on his side.

With a subtle nod from Caspar Mayden pulled a small piece of parchment, and a silver wrought ring from within his coat and began reading aloud.  “We are brought here before the sight of the Maker and the Holy Andraste to unite these two, Caspar Basilio Tihalt Alrik Pentaghast and Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast in blessed matrimony.”  His voice picked the words off the page singularly, with no fluidity or ease.  Her name had caused him particular trouble, he punctuated each syllable harshly but with a resolved determination as if he had been specifically instructed to get it right.  Knowing Caspar he probably had.  She wondered if he’d been made to practice.

“Here before these witnesses—”  She openly eyed the room at the line, had Caspar forgotten or did he simply not care?  “—and under the eyes of the Chantry may these two souls be brought together.  May they support one another through hardships and happiness, burdens and blessings.  May they walk in the light of the Maker’s grace and love.”  She wanted to laugh.  This was preposterous.  Even when marrying Varric, a man who at the time she believed she abhorred, these words had not felt so hollow, so meaningless.  They had had weight between them, they had bonded them.  This though, this was pathetic.  She had thought she had made a mockery of the Chantry, of marriage, before it was nothing compared to this.

“I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days,” Caspar recited.  They were just words to him, with no significance than any others.  Varric had stumbled over his vows, he had understood their importance, had not wanted to disgrace the process more than they’d had to.

Cassandra held her hand out for the ring, she doubted that Caspar would have any objections to her placing it on her herself.  Truly she couldn’t stomach the thought of Caspar touching her, even if it was just her hand.  The ring was heavy, an obtrusive, solid weight as she slid it on her finger.  It was silver with an exceedingly large blue gemstone set in the middle.  It did not suit her one bit, not its colouring nor its style, it was also too big.  She clenched her hand to keep it from slipping off her finger, and unconsciously ghosted her other hand across her hip where she had concealed Varric’s ring.

She felt a sense of deja vu as her gut clenched when she realized it was her turn now.  This was it, the final step.  All she had to do was repeat the words back to Caspar and they would be married, Varric would be safe.  Caspar’s eyes narrowed, the smooth skin around his eyes creasing as she stood before him, still and silent.  She glanced up again at the statue of Andraste.  Maker give me strength.

“I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste—”  She coughed, for no other reason than to stall, to put it off just a moment longer.  She started again, and concentrated on keeping a steady voice let him think her unmoved, unafraid though she was.  How could she not be.  She concentrated on Varric.  Varric whom she loved.  Varric who she may never see again, but who would be safe, who would have a future because of what she was doing here tonight.  “I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste—”  

The door to the chapel swung open with a resounding crash that bounced off the stone walls and floor.  Leliana and Josephine rushed into the room followed by a handful of guards.  The groups stared at each other from opposite ends of the chapel, and for a moment, everyone was silent.

\----

“Stop what you’re doing!” Josephine shouted as she trailed after Leliana up the aisle.  Cassandra took a step towards the pair and felt a hand clamp down on her forearm.  To her surprise it was Caspar not Mayden who had gripped her, his eyes suddenly bright and fierce his disaffected demeanour shaken.

“Stay where you are or the dwarf dies,” he growled.  “You are too late ladies, she has made her choice there is nothing to be done.”  He kept his eyes trained on her, and his hand in place on her arm as he addressed the rest of the room.  It would seem that he was no longer preoccupied with appearances.  She did not turn back to her spot, but also did not move any closer to the others who had nearly finished the journey down the aisle.

“He is right, there is nothing to be done.  I have agreed to this in exchange for Varric’s life.”  She watched as the guards fanned out around the chapel, making their way up the outer aisles but still keeping their distance.  Only Leliana and Josephine made their way completely up to them, stopping an arm’s length from them.

“Yes, we have been made aware.”  Had it been the guards or the healers?  Someone must have gone to them immediately.  But if they knew what she was doing, and why, then there was no reason for them to be here but to talk her out of it.

“Whatever you have to say, I will not let him die for me.”  She tried to suppress the sound of despair, the tremor, in her voice.  Even now, as perilously close as she was to fulfilling Caspar’s plans she was still loathe to let him know the true extent of her feelings for Varric.  Let him think her as removed, as distanced from the man she loved as she could lest Caspar figure out a way to use him even more than he already had.

“No one is dying tonight...potentially.”  With her final word Leliana eyed Caspar with an icy stare.  “We have the antidote—”  Cassandra felt her throat tighten, though she seemed to be the only one to have any reaction to the news.  Neither Caspar next to her nor Mayden behind her appeared to be disconcerted by Leliana’s revelation.  Not as they should.  If they truly had the cure then Varric was safe.  Then she did not have to marry Caspar.  As if she had expected no acknowledgement of her words, Leliana continued on.  “—Varric is already being treated as we speak.  He will live and you will not be marrying Cassandra.”  Was she bluffing?  She could not bring herself to feel relief, to be convinced until she had proof.  Until she saw Varric with her own eyes, healthy and stable.  She tried to read Leliana’s face but it was as impassive as ever.  Stoney and unreadable.  Josephine’s expression was no better.  She could not manage the malice that Leliana exuded but she was trained nearly as well to hide her intentions.  Would she have but one glance, one nod of reassurance, they must know that she would be looking for something of the like, expecting it.  But whatever she saw, so surely would Caspar.  She hoped, she prayed that that was their reasoning for leaving her as bewildered as the men around her and not, as she feared, because they did not in fact hold the cure.

Caspar laughed sharply.  Laughed without mirth, without pleasantry, it was cold and derisive.  “What you say is impossible.  It has not even been brewed yet.  Take your lies and trickery and be gone, you cannot stop what is already in motion.”  

Leliana kept her gaze fixed on Caspar, though Josephine’s quickly flitted between the two.  “We have made our own.”  Caspar laughed fully now as if the very thought was preposterous.

“Then you will kill him even faster and will have no one but yourselves to blame.  It took me months to develop the cure, and you expect me to believe that your _healers_ cracked it in hours?”  His lip curled into a sneer that looked disturbingly familiar to her own and she tore her eyes from his face unwilling to see any bit of herself in him.

“Not at all Your Highness, we simply used the instructions.”  Leliana remained stock still, solid like the stone statue of Andraste that loomed over all of them.  She heard Mayden shuffle behind her, she hoped that he wasn’t becoming restless.  She was in no position to defend herself from him should he attempt something on Caspar’s behalf.

“And had I ever written them out I might be quaking in my boots, but I have not been so careless, so...indiscreet.”  The hand on her arm tightened, without his physical reaction she might have thought the pause in his speech, the slight hesitation nothing of importance.  His fingers pressed heavily into the flesh of her forearm and she felt stronger for it, his confidence, his self-assurance was wavering.

“Well actually—” Josephine took a step closer as she spoke.

“You were,” finished Leliana.  

She could practically see the wheels turning inside Caspar’s mind as he digested what they were saying, as he tried to recall his weakness, his mistake.  Leliana it seemed was not willing to grant him the time to understand, to compose himself or his lies.

“You see Your Highness you _proposal_ was quite a surprise.  And I do not like surprises.”  As a pair people often believed her to be the intimidating one.  Her stature, her disposition...her face.  She was used to it, and she used it to her advantage.  But people were mistaken.  Leliana’s passive voice and quiet manner concealed a woman far more intimidating, far more threatening than even she could be.  People turned to Leliana in hopes of finding reprieve not understanding that she herself was the lenient one, the bleeding heart.  Of the two of them, it was Leliana that showed no mercy and she could see no mercy in her now.  

“Tell me, was King Markus already sick and you simply seized the opportunity or were you poisoning him from the beginning?”  Leliana tossed the accusation out with a distinct causality and not as if she was implicating that the Prince was involved with several grievous crimes.  She did not wait for a response, not that she was likely to get one.  “The plan was to kill him, yes?  But not until you had what you wanted, there was no need to draw unnecessary suspicions not when there were already those who were questioning your motives.  You needed to keep him incapacitated, pliable to your will.  Thus poison, in small doses.”  Caspar was listening as intently as everyone else, his stolid composure ebbing little by little as Leliana continued to speak.

“But when you left however, to come here, you needed someone to carry on your work.  If Markus was to suddenly get better in your absence it could undo all that you had planned.  Your succession, the deconstruction of the Mortalitasi and the regency.  You like being in control, I can understand that.  But I have faith in my comrades, I believe that they are capable of carrying out what needs to be done without my supervision.  You it would seem do not.”   There was no comment, no cutting remark from Caspar.  His continued silence did not bode well.  What was he thinking, what was he planning?  She needed to get away from him, put distance between herself and the two men.  Positioned as she was she could too easily be used as leverage.  She flexed her forearm, testing Caspar’s grip while Leliana forged on.

“You feared the worst, an overdose, a miscalculation in the hands of someone inferior to you.  So you left them instructions for crafting the antidote.  It spoils doesn’t it?  It cannot be made in advance, it cannot be kept.  Well Your Highness, I trust my people and a present threat often supersedes those from afar.  It did not take much to make your people talk.  Nor did it take long to find them.  You have not made friends of the Mortalitasi, they were all too eager to relay any rumours, any gossip.”  Cassandra tried to stem the sense of relief that was bubbling up within her, it would not do to be carried away by fancy when she was still at the mercy of her surroundings.  Leliana must be coming to the end of her account, she needed to break free from Caspar now, give the guards an unobstructed view.

Cassandra flexed her forearm again.  Caspar’s grip was not as tight as had been before, she suspected he was distracted by Leliana.  She wanted to get some sort of signal to the others, it would not do to take everyone by surprise.  But no one was looking at her, all eyes were fixed on Leliana and Caspar.  She’d have to take the risk.

Cassandra opened her left hand and let the heavy, silver ring slip off her finger.  It clattered against the bare stone, sounding clearly, piercing the air like a clash of swords.  It was enough.  Enough to draw the attention of those immediate to her, enough to distract Caspar.  She yanked her arm free of his hold, propelling herself off the dais towards Josephine’s side and out of both Caspar’s and Mayden’s reach.  Both men lurched for her as she moved, she was their only bargaining chip, their only means of escaping this place.  Her life for theirs.  But they were outnumbered and Leliana’s reflexes far surpassed theirs.  The guards closed in as Leliana personally wrested hold of Caspar.

“Get off—”  Caspar heaved under Leliana’s strong hold, still not ready to give in, to admit defeat.  “Nevarra will fall because of you!”  She bristled at the insinuation, that Nevarra’s fate was somehow tied to her choices and not those that had been forced upon her.  “It will disintegrate, fall apart as it has been doing for years!”  Her fingers curled into a fist at her side, she yearned to make contact with his skin, feel the cracking of bone beneath her knuckles.  But he did not deserve her time, and every moment she stood there was a moment longer she was apart from Varric.  “You could have stopped this you could—”   Caspar’s head flung to the side in a violent arc, his tirade broken by the sound of flesh hitting flesh.  Cassandra stepped back in a moment of shock as Josephine began shaking her hand out a grimace on her face.

“That’s quite enough of that then,” Josephine stated.  Only breaking from her usual businesslike manner to cradle her now sore hand and give Cassandra an assuring nod.  She wanted to watch, she wanted to stare with a perverse voyeurism as the two men were laid out, dragged away to the bowels of the keep.  But there were more pressing matters.  She turned leaving the men in more than capable hands and tore through the chapel, through the keep, to Varric.

\----

The first signs of daybreak were forming on the horizon, the castle was beginning to stir awake on what she had thought would be a night that may never end.  For once she was glad to be rid of her armour, not dampened by the familiar, safe weight.  Its absence meant that she could move as quickly as possible, meant that nothing was hindering her in returning to Varric.  The maze like halls of the keep rushed past her in a blur, instinct was taking her where she needed to be more than anything else.  Her concentration lay on one thing, and one thing alone.  

The door to their room reared ahead of her faster than she had anticipated and she did not slow her step until she had passed through the door which still lay open.  There, almost as she had left him, lay Varric.  He was no longer on his side but now lay on his back, and she could see his face.  See that colour had returned to his cheeks, see that his chest rose with an even, steady rhythm.  He did not yet look as he should, vibrant, healthy, but he no longer looked to be in the clutches of sickness, in the nonnegotiable hands of death.  She let a sense of relief finally wash over her and its waves took with it the strength, the rage fuelled adrenaline that had propelled her through the night.  Her knees buckled beneath her and Cassandra staggered to the closest chair.  She gripped the back of it, and it became the only thing supporting her, keeping her upright.  Varric was safe.  Varric would live.  She still could not quite believe it, even now seeing it with her own two eyes.  She had been so quick to resolve herself to a life, a future of unconscionable eventualities that she had spared no thought for hope.  Left no room in her mind’s wanderings for a positive outcome.  More than positive, an outcome that saw everything right, everything as it should be.  Yet here it was.  She did not have to marry Caspar, and Varric’s life was not forfeit.  She had questions, so many questions.  How had Leliana known about the poison, how long had she known?  Why had she not been informed, why were they not warned that this was a possibility?  There was a hurt within her, buried at the moment in the mountainous joy and relief that she was currently feeling but it was there waiting to be addressed.

Cassandra depressed the thought and returned her concentration to the man she loved.  Slowly, with a hesitant strength she pushed herself off the chair and made her way to the bed, to Varric’s side.  Her step faltered but she did not fall, an arm wrapped around her back, keeping her steady.  It held her gently so as not to surprise her, send her into a state of alert, but with enough strength to aid her in her path.  The arm around her guided her to the end of the bed so as not to disturb Varric’s position and she all but fell against it.  Using the last of her strength she extended herself against the mattress.  Facing Varric she laid down and delicately took his hand in hers.  The touch of his fingers was enough to quiet her remaining reservations.  She gripped his hand more surely, but not with too much force.  She did not want to disturb him but she needed assurances.  That this was reality, not some figment of her imagination.  She longed to see him waken, yearned to look into his eyes unclouded, unafflicted but he needed rest.  As did she, though she was reluctant to admit it.  She wanted to stay awake at his side, watch over him, protect him.  But her eyes were already fluttering closed, heavy from exhaustion.

“Rest, you have had quite the night I fear.”  Cassandra looked up in surprise at the voice as if she hadn’t connected the helping hand to another living, physical being.  It was the same woman from before, and it should not have surprised her, the healer had been almost a step ahead of her the entire night.  There when she was needed most.  There were others in the room she realized now.  They were doing their best to ignore her, their eyes shying away, their heads turning as she took them in one by one.  The healers it would seem had not left, or had returned after their earlier departure.  Of course they would be here, had she thought that Varric would be left alone once a cure had been administered?  The guards had remained as well, and were doing far less to assume a stance of ignorance.  She could have quelled their grins with one glance had she tried, had she wanted to.  But she did not currently possess the strength nor the will.  Let them look, let everyone look.  Let the entire fortress know that Varric was safe and that she was euphoric because of it.

“Varric?”

“Will be fine, with time and rest.”

“You are certain?”  She nodded once in response.  “Thank you, for...for—”  Words eluded her as fatigue overtook.

“Sleep Seeker Pentaghast, he will be well looked after I assure you.”  

She could no longer keep her eyes open her head having long since given up and fallen to the bed.  Exhaustion overtook her and she slipped into a heavy sleep,  Varric’s hand still warm and solid in her own.

\----

Cassandra woke intermittently throughout the day.  Each time dragging herself into a state of semi-consciousness on the back of panic and fear before she was able to remember fully the events of the previous night.  Varric’s solid presence, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth he radiated as she remained as close to him as she dared became a touchstone for her.  Calming her, easing her mind enough to slip again and again into the comforting embrace of a dreamless sleep.  She noticed as the day slipped by around them, fewer and fewer people remained in the room with every crack of her eyelids.  Their quiet rustling, their hushed voices lessened and lessened until there was none at all and the room fell silent once again except for the crackle of fire and the faint wheezing snore of Varric at her side.  The sun rose and set outside their window behind thick curtains.  One singular crack in the middle where the drapes almost met the only connection to the passage of time outside their room.  

She awoke once again, her realization of where she was, what had happened came swifter then it had before.  Cassandra squeezed Varric’s hand and opened her eyes, letting her vision adjust to the dim light of early evening.  Rubbing the layers of sleep out of her eyes, she sat up.  She had slept nearly the entire day yet she still felt groggy, her head felt muddled, her body ached.  It felt like she had gone into battle, there was a tautness throughout her entire body as if she had spent her slumber clenching all of her muscles.  Even in sleep it would seem her body had remained tense and at the ready in case of just one more surprise.  An hour or two in the bathes would ease most of her afflictions but it would have to wait unfortunately.  Nothing, absolutely nothing would remove her from her watch over Varric until he woke.  

Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she struggled to remember the last time she had eaten.  She would have to send for food, for herself and Varric.  He had surely eaten no more recently than her, and had far more to regain from it.  After a moment's internal debate Cassandra crawled off the bed.  As careful as she tried to be it still creaked under her movements, whined in protest of her heavy form.  But thankfully, it did nothing to stir Varric’s slumber.  From the play of shadows at the base of the door she could tell that someone, or multiple someones lay on the other side.  Guards or healers she would be grateful for either.  Halfway across the room, the bed at her back, the door to her front she froze.  In the corner of her eye, barely visible from her current position, completely unseen from her previous one on the bed sat a lone figure in front of the fireplace, all but enveloped by the chair.  She turned cautiously, fists at the ready while trying to remember where her weapons had ended up in the night’s travels.  Leliana sat before her silent and still as if she hadn’t heard her awaken and begin to move.  Cassandra let out an exasperated sigh, her shoulders slumping heavily as all the energy she had gained from sleep left her again in a release of panic.

“This is not the time for your tricks Leliana.”  Leliana’s eyes snapped to her, a startled look on her face.  Quickly she looked past her at Varric, seeing no change in him she rounded back into the chair.

“I am sorry my friend I did not mean to startle you, my mind was...elsewhere.”  The same distracted look returned to her face and she gestured to the chair across from her.  Cassandra sat down stiffly, the air between them seemed off kilter, unbalanced.  There was a doleful look in Leliana’s eyes that let Cassandra know that she felt it aswell.  

“Varric is well?”

“He will be, in time.”

“As you will be?”

“You should not worry about me, I have not suffered as he has.”

“I will always worry about you Cassandra.”

“...And I you,” she responded slowly, almost questioningly.  Leliana was not a sentimentalist, she did not wallow in emotion at least not in a way that invited others in.

“I owe you much in way of an explanation as I’m sure you’ve surmised.  I...I will not say that the results are any sort of justification.  Yes, Varric is safe, and yes, you are still with us but they are not excuses for my hand in the matter.  But I get ahead of myself, let me start from the beginning.”  Leliana drew in a breath and exhaled softly through her nose, her eyes focusing on the flames licking the edges of the fireplace.  “Caspar’s arrival, his proposal, all of it.  It was unexpected, it...it blindsided me, not a feeling I enjoy.  Not when I have seen what the consequences of ignorance can be.”  A hardness flashed across her face and Cassandra recognized it immediately for what it was.  The aftermath of the Conclave had hit everyone hard, but Leliana harder than most.  

“I made it my business to know everything about him.  As I said before, I moved my people around and they began gathering information.  It was a slow matter, slower than I would have liked with him so close by and being so intimately connected to our lives.  But Nevarrans are a stubborn people, closed lipped, untrusting.”—Leliana’s eyes flashed towards her and she had to stop herself from rolling her own—“It took much to corroborate leads and verify information.  Luckily we had allies.  Your uncle proved an invaluable resource—”

“Vestalus?”  She had thought the time for surprises had passed.  Her uncle, an informant?  She had known him as a spineless creature as a child.  Snivelling and grovelling to the King in order to save himself, assuring anyone that would listen that he had had no part in his brother’s folly as he had called it.

“Yes, Vestalus.  Caspar’s disapproval of the Mortalitasi set them all on high alert, a foolish move.  They may be old fashioned, but they have not survived this long without reason.  They were crucial in determining those that were following Caspar, as little as that did for us.”

“Little?  They gave you the cure Leliana I would not call that little.”  Leliana sighed and shook her head.

“Had that been the case I may not have needed to be here tonight.  Yes, it is what we told Caspar, it was easier, less complicated.  He did leave instructions in Nevarra but we were not able to extract that information from his people, not in time.  It is one of the reasons that I did not tell you all of this.”  Leliana shifted in her chair and faced Cassandra directly.  “I will be upfront with you Cassandra, though it is all a bit late.  I chose not to tell you that I knew Caspar had poisoned Markus even though I knew that there was a chance he would do the same to you or Varric.”  The unease that had been there when she sat down returned.  It pricked at the shred of hurt that she had buried within her, pushing it to the forefront of her mind.  It was not uncommon for Leliana to keep information from her, by virtue of her trade she could not tell her everything.  But to keep something so vital, something potentially life saving from her and Varric was devastating.  

“I received confirmation of his actions while you were away, I increased eyes on Varric and on Caspar and his men and resolved to tell the both of you upon your return.”  Leliana returned her gaze to the fire.  “I waited too long and was unable to warn either of you before Varric left.  But then, and for this a deeply apologize, I had the chance to tell you after the accident and I did not.  I thought it best at the time, you were already facing so much and I did not want to burden you with the information, not when we did not know if that was Caspar’s plan, and not when we didn’t have a cure...and I could not risk that you would do something—”

“—Rash?”  She spit the word out like a curse.

“...Precisely.”  Cassandra ground her teeth together, and tried to dampen the snarl she could feel forming on her lip.  They had been in situations like this before, they had not always been so attuned to one another.  Working together, building trust and a rapport had taken time and many such explanations.  But they had grown from their mistakes in their early days, and she had thought, certainly they had both thought that such instances of doubt, suspicion, and a seeming lack of faith were behind them.  In the wake of the Conclave, at the loss of Divine Justinia they had relied more heavily on one another, they had had no choice.  For Leliana to make such a decision now, whatever her reasoning, aggravated her immensely.  They sat in silence while Cassandra digested what Leliana had told her.  She gripped roughly at the arms of the chair and stewed in her sense of betrayal, while Leliana sat passively, letting her take her own time.  She always had patience for her where so many others did not.  Cassandra released her grip on the chair and ran a hand across her face.  As much as it hurt her that Leliana had kept that information from her, there was a truth to her reasoning.  She knew it of herself, the side of her that acted without reason, without thought.  If Leliana believed she could not be trusted with the information because of how she would react she only had herself to blame.  She had done nothing to indicate that she would sit quietly by, quite the opposite in fact.  But to withhold such crucial information, potentially life saving information, the thought left a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Did you at least tell the healers that poison was a possibility?”

“Yes, of course.  And they did all that they could in preparation.  But poisons are an art unto themselves and they could only do so much without knowing the exact particulars.”

“Then how?  How was Varric healed?”  

“I’m still not entirely sure.”  Leliana let out a frustrated sigh.  “When I was made aware of the situation I feared the worst, knowing that we were still not in possession of the antidote.  But the message relayed to me was that Varric was fine and that I was to find you.  I’ve since spoken with the healers, the guards, any messengers that were used and no one has a complete recollection of what happened.”  For the first time that evening Leliana sounded annoyed.  She had maintained her composure as she had given her explanation, her confession to Cassandra, stoic as always if a bit more maudlin than normal.  But frustration reigned now.  “The healer who crafted the cure cited ‘Divine Inspiration’ of all things.  Agatha has assured me he had nowhere near the skill nor ability to make such a thing.”  Agatha she assumed must be the elder healer who had helped in countless ways that night.  

“And you have talked with the mage?  You do not think him involved?”

“No, I don’t believe he has any connection to Caspar.  He told me he was taking a moment's rest, having a cup of tea and it came to him.  A miracle he called it, as if his prayers had been answered he was granted knowledge of the materials required and the amounts needed.”  Leliana huffed an almost sarcastic laugh.  “It required rare items he told me.  Things that should not have even been available this time of year, yet we had them.  In the kitchens, just there for the taking.”  Cassandra could understand Leliana’s frustration, though she was almost of a kind not to question it.  Varric was safe, did it matter how?  “I questioned the cooks, they do not remember requisitioning the items they had no need for them, but by their recollection they’ve been there for weeks.”  Her stomach growled at the mention of the kitchens, nearly echoing against the empty, cavernous walls of her stomach.  “Being used as well, though they could not tell me what for.”  At the very least she could use a drink, a large glass of claret would do the trick though she would not find anything stronger than tea in their room.

Leliana was staring intensely at the fire, her concentration having slipped from the matter at hand and delving back into the remaining mystery that plagued her.  Cassandra was content to let it go.  Divine Inspiration was a flimsy explanation, but she had seen stranger things, experienced them herself.  Leliana would not be as satisfied with the answer, though her faith ran no weaker than her own.  Excusing herself from Leliana’s side, she set the kettle to boil above the open flame and searched for a clean mug.  A stack of used dishes lay neatly piled next to the door, used no doubt by the numerous people who had frequented their room throughout the last day.  She managed to find two small cups, not something really meant for hot liquids but at least they were clean.  She rummaged around Varric’s desk looking for the tea he kept stashed there, to the sound of Leliana muttering to herself.  It was the tea that he had begun brewing for her in the cold evenings, that which the Inquisitor had given him to try.  Though she had never really believed that excuse.  The small pouch peaked out from under a stack of papers and she pulled it out.  It was much lighter than when she had last used it, but upon opening it she could tell that there was enough for maybe two more small glasses.  It would have to do.

Cassandra gave Leliana one of the freshly brewed cups, a look of consternation still written plainly across her brow, before sitting down again.  She breathed in the steam rising from her cup and a shiver ran down her back.  A memory with startling clarity formed in her mind at the familiar scent, of her being greeted in the morning, restless and disoriented on the side of a mountain, with tea, from Cole.  She sat stock still as her mind tried to put into focus all that she was thinking.  The cup in her hand began to scald her hands, the recently boiled water far too hot for its construction but she ignored it.  “What did you—the healer, the one who made the antidote you said—what was he doing when he figured it out.”  The words rushed out of her mouth, ideas starting and stopping as she tried to get it all out.

“Hmm?  He was taking a break.”

“Yes but—tea, you said he was drinking tea.”

“That is what he said.”

“—This tea?”  Leliana gave her a concerned look.

“Possibly?  Probably?  Why does that matter?”  Cassandra gave a wry chuckle.

“I think I might know who’s responsible.”  

\----

A surprisingly warm wind whipped through the grounds, heralding the first break in the cold harsh weather of winter, and carrying thoughts of spring in its wake.  The breeze rustled the ends of Cassandra's hair as she smashed her shield into a training dummy sending it teetering on its post, wavering unsteadily under the force of her push.  She gave it no time to resettle and struck out with the pommel of her practice sword.  Had her opponent been filled with anything more than straw the blow would have resulted in a resounding crack.  The dull thud it gave off was always a tad unsatisfactory in her opinion, but watching as the form finally lost its fight against gravity and careened into the dirt did make up for it.

“You know that’s why Curly doesn’t let you spar with the newbies.”  At the sound of Varric’s voice her entire body visibly relaxed, her sword and shield coming to rest at her sides.  A small smile curving her lips, an involuntary reflex.

“They will need to be broken in sooner or later.”

“I can’t tell if you mean that literally or figuratively.”  Varric shuffled around the fallen dummy, giving it a little nudge with his boot before coming to her side.  “You ready for lunch or did you want another round?”

“I will not bore you with another bout, my love.”

“Hey, you know I always like to watch.”  Varric eyed her with a wicked grin while holding his hand out for her shield and sword.  She passed them to him quickly, bending to reset the training dummy, and to hide the blush that had developed on her cheeks.  The man was incorrigible, really there was a time and a place, not that that ever seemed to stop him.  

Varric’s recovery had taken little more than a week.  He had finally woken to her great relief, just over a day after first succumbing to the poison.  But the healers, backed fully by herself had not let him resume his regular duties for another week after that.  Not until the colour had fully returned to his face, not until he no longer broke down into coughing fits, or woke in the night with a violent jerk, sweating profusely.  But after that there was no stopping him.  Varric had seemed determined to make up for each and every single day he had missed, throwing himself completely into his work for the Inquisition and to her delight into their relationship.  There had been a few tentative days on her part, during his recovery.  Days when she was not sure what was to become of _them_.  There had been quite a bit of time to talk however, with him confined as he was, and more than a little to talk about.  

Of course he had wanted to know everything that had happened, and had asked her to spare no detail though she would have if given the chance.  Telling him of their annulment, breaking to him what she had done had felt like pulling teeth to her.  Though it had been the toughest thing to talk about it had been the first thing she told him.  She had not wanted it to weigh over everything else, she had not wanted to build up to it like some finality.  It had happened, and for that she was deeply sorry, but that would not be the end of them as they had discussed, if not obliquely, many times before.  Ever observant as she knew him to be though, it did not come as much as a surprise to him.  The rings, he’d explained, and the fact that he was still alive.  

Varric had tried to apologize for not believing her that Caspar was more of a threat then they thought, and for not protecting her from him when it really mattered though she had none of it.  It went on for days the two of them arguing with each other trying to make the other see how they were at fault, how any burden of guilt should be placed on their shoulders.  Until the reality of their annulment settled between them and they realized they could be spending their free time with one another in a far more enjoyable manner.  If Varric’s cough suddenly returned after days of being cured, extending his recovery, the healers made no question of it.

Cassandra pushed a few stray strands of straw back into place, a feeble attempt to repair the split that she had caused in the rough fabric and Varric returned from storing her practice weaponry, placing a hand casually on her lower back.  

“If you’re not starving, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about before heading in.”  She tried to keep her brow steady at the slight downturn in Varric’s voice.

“Certainly,” she replied, and let herself be guided out of the training area.  They walked in silence at first, Varric leading them in a loop of the grounds.  Carefully avoiding the larger than normal groups of people milling about, enjoying the warmer weather brought on by the forthcoming spring.

“Uh—Cole wanted me to thank you for the new books.”  Cassandra looked at him in surprise.

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“What?  No—I...”  Varric let out a frustrated huff.

“He hasn’t been giving you more things to eat has he?  We talked about this.  Eat it, but do ask about it this time.”  It had taken more than a few attempts to get Cole to fess up to having supplied the antidote for the poison.  He had woven a complicated pattern to get it to them at all, one that relied on multiple variables though that hadn’t seemed to bother him.  It was the tea of course, as she had guessed.  A weaker, watered down version of the antidote.  Not meant to cure them, but protect them had they ingested it regularly.  She had, Cole had made sure of it even when she was away from the fortress, giving it to her while they camped.  But Varric hadn’t, and Cole had had to step in again, be more forceful, more overt with his directions.  They were still trying to impart on him the importance of being forthright with knowledge of impending tragedy but it was slow going.  Really though she suspected that he knew full well, and only feigned his unawareness because he enjoyed the more frequent conversations between the three of them.  She wasn’t about to say anything, if that was the case.

“No.  It’s Bartrand.”  Cassandra stopped walking and placed a hand on Varric’s shoulder.

“Is everything alright?”

“That’s debateable.  It’s not that he’s gotten any worse, but I thought...well I thought it might be time for me to go see him.  Plus the Inquisitor’s been asking me to take care of some stuff in Kirkwall anyway so…”

“Are you certain?”  They had shared much with each other over the last few months, but even still Varric’s relationship with his older brother was something they always treaded carefully around.

“Yeah I think I am.”  Varric removed his hand from her back and took hold of hers on his shoulder, motioning for them to continue moving.  “If you wanted to come, I wouldn’t say no.”

“Meet your brother?”  

“Well yeah, among other things.”  With a quick scan of their surroundings, Cassandra pulled Varric behind a small cluster of trees, a sad excuse for cover, and planted a kiss on him.  She tried to pull back not meaning for it to be more than an expression of her delight, but his arms wrapped around her waist pulling her tightly against him and she happily gave in for a moment longer.  Until she remembered exactly where they were and gently, regretfully pulled back.  “You’ll come then?”

“Did you think I would say no?”

“Not really, but just wanted to make sure.”

“If we are to go to Kirkwall, there is someone I would like you to meet as well.”  Varric quirked his brow skeptically, as if asking her, who do you know in Kirkwall and why wasn’t I aware of this?  “Leliana passed a message on to me.”  She watched as Varric forcibly tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes.  It had taken time for her to be able to forgive Leliana for withholding information from them, Varric had still not come around completely.  Lacking the bond that she had with Leliana, it was still a point of contention.  “My uncle has expressed a wish to see me, after all that has happened.”

“We are not going to Nevarra.”  Varric’s voice was suddenly grave, a solid force.  His arms tightening around her.

“Yes, I thought it best not to.”  The news of Caspar’s plans, that he had been poisoning King Markus and making a play for the throne had swept through Nevarra.  His arrest and imprisonment at the hands of the King had caused unrest in pockets across the country.  Those that had been loyal to the Prince from the start, and those who latched on to his cause.  Caspar had not been wrong in his assessment of the people of Nevarra there were many who wanted change.  Not enough though to make an impact, not when they were as unorganized as they were, spread out and in secret.  To think about all of those people making a stand for change only to be brought down by the power and might of Markus brought visions of her childhood to head.  She had never had plans to return to her homeland, but now it was unlikely that she could even if she wanted to.  The public might not be aware of the specifics of her involvement, but Markus certainly was and she feared that no amount of convincing would keep him from seeing her as a threat to his rule.  Best then, to avoid it altogether.  “But Nevarra City is not that far from the Free Marches, we could meet in the middle.”

“Do you want to see him?”  He sounded skeptical, and she could not blame him.  She had never expressed any fondness for her uncle, but in truth he was the only family that she had left.  He had helped her after all, even if it had been out of loyalty to the King.

“He is old, and will not be long for this world I’m afraid.  If I do not do this now I may never have the chance.”  Varric gave her a conceding nod.

“Visiting with dying relatives, kinda a shit honeymoon though you gotta admit?”  Cassandra chuckled softly and ran the backs of her fingers against his neck.

“Is that what this is?  I do believe we missed our chance for that my love.”

“I wasn’t aware we had to do things in a specific order.”  She hummed in response and moved her hands into Varric’s hair.  “But if you insist.”  Her hands stilled, and her stomach flipped in an all too familiar fashion.

“Are you proposing?”

“Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast, would you do me the honour of being my wife?  Again.”  Cassandra gave a questioning hum, a mock thoughtful look crossing her face as if she was deeply considering it, weighing her options.  As if they had not talked about this for some time, never as an _if_ but as a _when_.  She lowered her eyes back to Varric’s and settled her weight more firmly against him.  

“Varric Tethras, it would be my distinct honour.”

“Pentaghast.”

“What?”

“Varric Tethras- _Pentaghast_.”  Her head dipped in laughter, her whole body quaking as she tried to stifle it.

“I am not sure it holds quite the same ring to it.”  Varric merely shrugged in response and leaned up her.  Cassandra bent her head just a little bit further and captured his lips once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! It's over! I never truly thought this day would come. Thank you so much to everyone that came along for the ride, every kudos, every sub, bookmark, comment it's all been such an overwhelming show of support and I have really appreciated it.
> 
> Here's a link to my Tumblr, feel free to drop me a line anytime about Dragon Age or whatever http://larrrsy.tumblr.com/


End file.
